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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25501330">A Collision of Past and Future</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iomhar/pseuds/Iomhar'>Iomhar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe Hunger Games [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Careers (Hunger Games), District 1 (Hunger Games), Dysfunctional Family, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Gen, Hunger Games, Hunger Games Victors, Hunger Games worldbuilding, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Original Arena(s) (Hunger Games), Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Siblings, Victor siblings, Worldbuilding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:28:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>83,264</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25501330</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iomhar/pseuds/Iomhar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Europa and Isabella Vitner are the victors of the 142nd and 143rd Hunger Games, respectively.  It is the beginning of the 146th Hunger Games and their younger sister, Avalon, has volunteered at 15 years of age.  Europa, her mentor, supports this decision.  Isabella does not.  She hopes dearly that Avalon will pull through, but she also knows the foolishness of volunteering at such a young age.</p><p>Told through the writings of Isabella who is bound and determined to record the truth, the events of the 146th Hunger Games unfold.  But the truth is far harder to come by than one would think, and with it comes many unpleasant revelations about the path it took to get to where they are today.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe Hunger Games [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>142</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Hunger games</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is set in the same alternate universe as my last story, The Year After, which tells the story of the 141st Hunger Games.  These stories are independent of each other, but A Collision of Past and Future (this work) may contain minor spoilers, such as the victor of the 141st Hunger Games.</p><p>I have, at last, finished writing the final chapter, so if you are beginning to read it now, you do not have to wait for any updates.  Despite this, I always enjoy comments, so even if it's weeks, months, or years down the road, feel free to leave a comment if you are so inclined.</p><p>A Collision of Past and Future covers many themes (noted in the tags where I could), so please be advised that if you are sensitive to any of this to proceed with caution.  I have tried to notate chapters that address certain mental health aspects, but of course I cannot address everything.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’m not supposed to be writing this, but if I don’t put it down on paper, it’ll be like it never happened.  If you’re reading this (though I hope to God that no one ever finds my notebook), you might’ve watched it all unfold in real time.  But the story they show on television is only a mimicry of reality.  It’s a watered-down, hyped up version of the events that unfold before us.</p><p>I come from victor lineage.  My grandmother was Dawn Hildebrand of District 1, victor of the 83<sup>rd</sup> Hunger Games.  They called her a goddess.  Goddess of beauty.  Goddess of death.  She killed seven tributes in the arena, and each flick of her knife was a work of art.  I’ve seen the recaps and I’m constantly mesmerized.  The way the silver blade danced around her fingers before it found its home in the neck of a tribute was absolutely phenomenal.  And I don’t just say that because it’s my grandma we’re talking about.  She was good at what she did, and everyone knew it.</p><p>The second victor in my family is my older sister, Europa Vitner.  She won the 142<sup>nd</sup> Hunger Games and brought honor not just to our district but also our family.  Her specialty was the mace, a disgustingly brutal weapon that was always a bit too heavy for me.  I can still remember the way that she bounded over to me after she was chosen as volunteer two days before the official reaping (that’s how it’s done in District 1 because we have so many volunteers that it would be a mess to sort out on reaping day).  She grabbed my hands in hers and said, “It’s me!  I’m the volunteer this year!  Oh, Isabella, I am so excited!”  And that excitement was evident in her eyes. It radiated off of her body.  But I was only scared.  We’d trained for our entire lives, but it seemed that I was the only one who saw the danger.</p><p>The third victor in my family is me.  Isabella Vitner, victor of the 143<sup>rd</sup> Hunger Games.  My weapon of specialty is the sword—swords of all types.  There are some that I’m better at than others, and some I stay away from altogether, but I won’t waste my time explaining that all right now.  Just know that I like swords.  I’m good with other weapons, too, but the sword is what defined me in my family.</p><p>When my older sister won the Hunger Games, the entire family buzzed with the excitement of victory.  The attention, the gifts, the constant praise swept us all up, and no one could deny that my sister had accomplished one of the greatest things a young woman could do.  We moved into her new mansion, and she let us choose our own rooms.  How I loved the new place!  We wanted for nothing.  But in the small hours of the night, I could hear Europa crying.  She wandered the halls after we had all gone to bed, an ethereal being shroud in the moon’s light, weeping with a sadness none of us understood.  My family pretended we couldn’t hear it, but it shook me to the core.  It was as though our house were haunted by a ghost that vanished as soon as the sun rose.  A ghost that turned into my sister during the daytime hours.  She had no recollection of her late night wanderings, at least none that she admitted to.</p><p>Although I had trained for the Hunger Games since I was a small child, watching my sister in the arena unnerved me.  It didn’t seem to affect me when it was other people, even if I knew them and even if they died.  But to watch my sister, the strong, confident woman that she was, carve her success from the corpses of younger teenagers . . . it shook me in a way I couldn’t express.  There was always the flicker of doubt in the back of my mind: what if she doesn’t make it?  What if all that training is for nothing?  But, of course, my dearest Europa emerged splattered in blood and brains as the one and only surviving tribute.</p><p>“It’s exhilarating,” she whispered to me one night as we sat in the bay window of her bedroom, the moon bathing over us as we sipped herbal tea.</p><p>“It sounds terrifying,” I replied.</p><p>She smiled at me.  “Of course it is.  It’s absolutely pants-shitting terrifying.  But there’s this rush you get that can’t compare to any training you’ve ever done.  Isabella, I am going to talk with the committee.  You need to volunteer.”</p><p>If someone had said this to me a year prior, I would have eagerly taken them up on it.  Tonight, however, I just implored her to let it go.  “There are others who are so much more qualified than me,” I explained to her.  “And I want to pursue an education at the university.”</p><p>“There are none more qualified than you,” she assured me.  “Your university ambitions can wait a year.  Just you see—you will bring honor to our family, too.”</p><p>I always lived in the shadow of my older sister.  She is perfect.  Beautiful, flawless skin.  Thick, golden blond hair.  Large hazel eyes.  Toned muscles that could handle the largest of weapons.  She is model quality.  But it wasn’t just her looks.  She was chosen to represent District 1 for a reason.  Her skills were phenomenal, both in terms of weaponry and survival.  As the oldest, she received the most attention from my parents.  I was expected to follow suit without complaints.  Whatever future Europa laid before us was the future I would pursue, regardless of my desires.  Beautiful, perfect Europa.</p><p>It wouldn’t be fair to say that I paled in comparison to my older sister because it’s not true.  I am beautiful, too.  I am strong and good with weaponry, too.  But it was never me who caught people’s eyes, who made people look, who set the stage for all who came after her.  It was never me.  Could I make a name for myself by volunteering?  Or would I only be enveloped in my sister’s shadow forever if I followed the same path she took?</p><p>In the end, I knew that I worked too hard to let it all go to waste.  Europa was right—I could go to university a year later than I wanted.  If, I thought quietly to myself where no one else could ever hear, I was still alive.</p><p>I am the third victor in my family, after my grandmother and my older sister.  Never before has a family had three victors.</p><p>And never before has a family had four.</p><p>Avalon was not supposed to volunteer this year, nor the year after.  She is only fifteen years old and certainly is not old enough to have a chance of winning.  I tried to convince her to wait, but she wouldn’t listen to me.  She said that she had to seize the opportunity before it slipped her by.  I tried to get Europa to take my side, but she wouldn’t.  I begged my parents to withdraw their approval, but they disagreed.  “Avalon has worked hard, and she is better than even the best eighteen year old,” my parents told me.  “Stop trying to hog all of the glory.”</p><p>My little sister volunteered for the 146<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games, and I am afraid I will have to watch her die.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My hand is tired, but I can’t stop writing.  I want to get it all out.</p><p>The reaping day came, and I stood on the stage as I do every year with my sister and the other victors.  It’s a moment of pride for our district.  Back in the olden times—fifty, one hundred years ago—there were more District 1 victors than there are now.  We had a better chance at winning because the other tributes were often weaker, more impoverished, less well fed.  Things have changed, and though there are still more Career victors than victors from any other district, it’s humbling to know that we may not always be on top.  Still, District 1 has had four within the past twelve or thirteen years, which is far more than any other district.</p><p>We held our heads high as our names were read.  The crowd always cheers for us with whoops and whistles and shouts of praise.  And then it was time for the choosing of the names.  Our escort, Mildred Honeydew, read the slip of paper, but immediately the chosen volunteer called out “I volunteer!” and stepped to the stage, as per protocol.  This year, it was my sister Avalon.  I watched the crowd part as she bounded up towards the dais, her blond braids bouncing around her shoulders.  She grinned at Europa and me as she took her place.  She looked so young.  So foolish and young.  But I’m sure that the other tributes would be trembling when they watched our reaping and saw the eager gleam in her eye.  Her co-volunteer, Edric Maldonado, took his place by her side.  They waved to the roaring crowd, and then it was time for their goodbyes.</p><p>I remember my goodbyes.  I remember each one was so brief because there were so many people who came to see me off.  We hugged and kissed and I promised each one that I would return to them. But I always wondered how many other tributes said the same thing to their family and friends.</p><p>Europa and I waited in the train for the tributes along with the other victors who would be accompanying us.  This year, I was not a mentor.  Europa insisted on mentoring Avalon, and I couldn’t say I minded.  Though it did jab me in the stomach to know that Avalon ran to Europa when she found out that she was to be volunteer and asked our sister to be her mentor.  Hammer Williams, victor of the 134<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games, will be mentoring Edric.  I am merely a spectator this time.</p><p>The District 1 train is always so long.  Each victor has his or her own car for sleeping.  I always thought that every train had this many cars until I saw one of the outlying district trains once and realized that I was mistaken.  They only had to house two tributes and two mentors.  In District 1 this year, we had two tributes, two mentors, and four of us non-mentoring victors.  Any other victors could join us later if they chose not to come with us now.</p><p>We wasted no time watching the reapings to size up our tributes.  It’s crazy how worked up some of the kids get over it.  Yes, there’s a very high chance of death, even for us Careers, but to see the way some of these kids tremble and shake and wail is just embarrassing.  Some of the other victors would tell me that I’m being heartless—non-Career victors, of course—but I can’t help but think that if I were going to die, I wouldn’t want to be behaving like that.  There is good competition this year, too.  The pair from District 2 bulge with muscle.  The girl from District 4 is much more slender, but you can see from her expression how wily she is.  The boy from her district has a sleek athleticism.  And there are others from other districts that catch my attention.  The girl from District 7, the boy from District 9, both from District 10.</p><p>But Avalon by far received the most coverage from Capitol media.  There had been siblings who had won before—I am nothing too special, though certainly I caught attention—but to have three siblings win?  That is something no one has ever done.  No one has even attempted it.</p><p>They showed footage of Europa’s Hunger Games, and mine too.  Then they did a piece on my family, the perfect little set of daughters raised by the perfect family.  Lies, of course, but no one wants to know the truth.  That’s why I’m writing here because I don’t think I’ll be able to keep pretending for much longer.  Maybe if I write it all out, I won’t feel like I’m perpetuating these lies.</p><p>But it’s so late right now that I really should go to sleep.  There’s an interview tomorrow morning, and I can’t look like I haven’t slept.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I don’t mind interviews too much because once you understand the sorts of questions they ask, it’s pretty easy to go with the flow.  Europa was flooded with interviews when I was in the Hunger Games, and I’m sure it’s going to be the same this year.  And the interviews will continue as long as Avalon stays alive, and then some.</p><p>Oh, Avalon, why did you have to volunteer?  You’re only fifteen.  You could have waited until you were older and stronger and smarter!  But you had to show off, didn’t you?</p><p>We used to be close, Avalon and me.  Back when we were kids.  Europa was always so bossy, so sometimes I’d take Avalon with me to go play somewhere else.  She loved to follow along after me like she was one of the big kids.  But as we got older and our priorities changed, I spent less and less time with her.  If I had spent more time with her, would she not crave this sort of attention?  We are five years apart, and things change rapidly when you hit your teenage years.  Between school work and hormones and training, I rapidly accelerated into adulthood while she was left behind playing with the other babies.  Did I miss a critical point in her life?</p><p>After the interview, I went to the mentor room to catch up with those who would be mentoring this year.  Europa and Hammer were there, of course.  Butch and Ferrer are the mentors this year for District 2.  Butch is a bit blunt and crude, but Ferrer can be decent.  He’s much older, though, and doesn’t appreciate some of the banter from us younger folk.  Gill and Fjord are mentoring for District 4.  Fjord won just a few years back, and Gill was his mentor.  Now they stand as equals.  It should be that way with Europa and myself, but it doesn’t seem to ever play out in that fashion.  Everyone looks at Europa first, then me as an afterthought.  I once said this to my mom, and she only said, “That’s because Europa is so much more confident than you.  Be confident like your sister, and then she will have competition.”  But how can you be confident when you’re competing against someone like Europa?</p><p>I digress.</p><p>Since Districts 1, 2, and 4 traditionally make up the Career pack, it’s assumed unless proven otherwise that the six of them will be working together.  Already they were swapping information about their tributes, sharing facts and tidbits that would be useful, figuring out who would handle what weapon.  It’s all pretty tedious if you’re not part of it and are just listening in.  So I decided to see who else was mentoring this year.  Some districts are pretty obvious:  District 8 is pretty much always Esther and Calico.  District 11 is Basil and Demeter.  Then there are other districts that are a little more unpredictable, such as District 7, which has almost as many victors as some Career districts do.  I’m also surprised to see that Elijah isn’t mentoring District 5.  Instead it’s the new girl, the one who won last year.  Her and James.  I greet those with whom I’m on friendly enough terms, but I steer clear of the new girl because she looks pretty stressed out right now and I can’t deal with that.  It sucks to be from a non-Career district because you often just get thrown into things.  I didn’t have to mentor my first year.  Instead I was a “junior mentor” with Europa, so she showed me all the things that I would have to know the following year.</p><p>The Career pack mentors were wrapped up in their work, so I decided that it wasn’t worth my time to stand around.  I’m not mentoring this year, so no point in getting in everybody’s space.</p><p>It’s always a little hard adjusting to the return to the Capitol because things have changed so much since you were here last, even if it’s only been a couple months.  And it’s harder when you’re not mentoring because you don’t have the structure that comes with Prep Week and all of its various tasks, so then you’re just kind of milling around trying to not draw too much attention to yourself but also trying to avoid blending into the shadows.  So I took a few hours to visit all of my favorite shops and say hello to my favorite Capitol citizens.  I’m not a social butterfly, but I know a few folk around here that I miss when I’m back in District 1 for the majority of the year.</p><p>All everyone can talk about is my family.</p><p>“We saw your family on television!” says Lenora Gross, owner of the Pink Pearl Boutique.  She sells all sorts of fun little knickknacks and figurines.  “You are just so cute together!”</p><p>“Thanks, Lenora,” I smile broadly.  My family <em>is</em> cute together.  All three of us girls have the same round faces and large smiles, thick blond hair, and a spectrum of greenish-bluish-brownish eyes.  My parents are a bit darker in complexion, but no one dares to doubt our legitimacy when they know who our grandmother is and can see her genes in us.</p><p>“When your sister wins—” (yes, she thinks that it’s not a possibility she won’t) “—I have the perfect collection of figurines I’m going to introduce.”  She winks at me, but she won’t tell me what the figurines are.  I’ll have to wait for Avalon to make the final blow, and then she will reveal them.  She’s done similar things, though not when the stakes were so high, so I know there’s no use prying.</p><p>“Can’t wait to see them,” I say.  And I can’t because I know that whatever she designs will be beautiful.</p><p>It gnaws in the back of my mind: does no one else think that there is a chance Avalon may die?  Am I a terrible sister for thinking there may be a chance that she won’t live?</p><p>“You must be so proud of your sister,” gushed Monroe Blanchard, the bartender for Relish, a combination bar and spa.  He offered me a drink on the house, but I turned him down.  I’m only twenty, and the legal drinking age is twenty-one.  Of course no one really cares, but when you’re at a bar or restaurant, you have to at least pretend to follow the law.</p><p>I smile at him.  “Of course I am,” I say.  I can’t tell any of these people my real thoughts on the matter.  Even though I’m on good terms with many in the Capitol, their view of the Hunger Games is vastly different.  Sometimes it’s easy to forget that, but then they make comments like that and I’m jolted into remembering to keep my guard.  I don’t see any reason to be proud of my fifteen-year-old sister.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dinner was held in the training center promptly at 6:00 PM.  I arrived fifteen minutes early so I wasn’t holding anyone up.  Today was the first day of training, and everyone was alive with news and information.  When I sat down at the table, Edric was guffawing at some poor sap who happened to drop a dumbbell on his foot.  He didn’t care if the kid is going to be okay or not.  Why should he?  It will just make him easier to pick off.</p><p>“Oh, my <em>God</em>, they have the biggest assortment of knives I have ever seen in my life!” Avalon said to us.  She began to list them all from carving knives to throwing knives and everything in between, ticking them off on her fingers as she went.  “Why didn’t you tell me that there would be this many?”</p><p>“I told you that there would be a lot,” Europa grinned.</p><p>“Yeah, but not THIS many!”</p><p>Avalon knows how to use knives.  Like grandma.  Each one of us specialized in something before we went into the arena, and Avalon’s specialty is knives.  She’s also a pretty damned good shot with the bow, but there isn’t always one of those in the arena, so knowing how to use more than one weapon is vital.</p><p>Europa had the avoxes bring out carefully proportioned meals that meet Avalon’s nutritional requirements.  She did the same for me, too, when I was a tribute.  Essentially she calculates the amount of kilocalories lost from resting requirement and from activity, and then she figures out how much weight we should gain or lose before entering the arena.  You don’t want to be used to eating big meals and then have to deal with a lack of nutrition; similarly, you don’t want to starve yourself and then be weak once the gong goes off.  It’s not just the calories, though, but the total amount of protein, carbohydrates, and fat perfectly measured out.  And it needs to be nutritious, so dessert is oftentimes out of the question since it is only empty calories.</p><p>Fortunately the rest of us can eat whatever we want.</p><p>“What do you think of the other Careers?” Europa asked her.</p><p>Avalon thought carefully before answering.  “I need another day before I can say anything,” she said at last.  “I’m afraid I’ll just give you gut reactions, you know?”</p><p>“Oh, c’mon, tell her that the District 4 boy was hitting on you the entire time,” Edric goaded her.</p><p>Avalon rolled her eyes.  “He’s just trying to get a feel for how easy I am to rattle.  You remember Sprite Bolson from the gymnasium,” she said to Europa.  “Well, imagine that, but like bigger and with more muscle.”</p><p>Europa chuckled.  Sprite knew how to rattle people.  I stayed away from him, but we had all heard stories from various friends.</p><p>Dinner finished, and we didn’t really get much information out of Avalon besides some admiration for the facilities.  Then everyone moved into the sitting room to watch some recaps of previous Hunger Games.  Europa paused occasionally to point out errors in the way various tributes handled things.  My older sister is . . . well, she’s pretty anal retentive about things.  Everything has to be done in a certain manner in order for it to be acceptable, especially when it comes to the Hunger Games.  Being resourceful is important, but knowing how to utilize each resource 100% correctly is what really gets her going.</p><p>Eventually I stood up and bid them all goodnight.  This whole affair was pretty boring.  I don’t know what I expected.  Maybe to be included in the mentoring process somehow?  But Europa had everything under control, and there wasn’t really anything left for me to add.  I am trying not to be offended about this because I know that there’s a reason why people say too many cooks in the kitchen spoil the soup, but I could see them bonding together as they exchanged remarks.  And I wasn’t part of it.  I guess I sound like I’m jealous.  Maybe I am, I don’t know.</p><p>“So soon?” Avalon said as I pulled my light summer jacket over my shoulders.</p><p>“Yeah, I have to get back to my place,” I told her.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p>“Let me walk you out,” Europa said, already on her feet.</p><p>I felt flattered that she would take time away from mentoring—even two minutes—to come see me to the door.  I perked up at the offer and the two of us stepped into the elevator.  The machine whirred down one level to the ground floor—a very short ride.</p><p>“You know, you can at least <em>try</em> to be supportive of Avalon,” Europa said as we meandered across the lobby.</p><p>“I do support her.  I’m just, well, I’m upset that she volunteered this year and didn’t wait until she’s older, you know?” I explained.  Normally Europa, bossy though she always was, could hear me out if I gave a reason.</p><p>“She’s trying to stand out like the rest of us, and she has the skills to back it,” Europa said.  “So don’t just shoot her down because she’s younger.  There have definitely been fifteen-year-old victors in the past.”</p><p>“I know that,” I say.  “And I know she’s capable.  But she should have waited because there are also a lot of fifteen-year-old Careers who <em>don’t</em> make it.”</p><p>“Isabella, get this through your head right away,” Europa said in a low hiss.  “Avalon is a Vitner, like you and me.  And like you and me, she will make it through the arena.”</p><p>“But why <em>should</em> she?” I asked, also keeping my voice low.  “What’s the point of—”</p><p>Europa cut me short with a sudden slap to my cheek.  My own sister outright slapped me!  My face stung and my eyes watered.</p><p>I stood there stunned, my mouth open.</p><p>“Close your mouth,” she ordered.  “I don’t want to hear anything like that come from you again.”</p><p>I closed my mouth, but I had no idea what to say.  What <em>do</em> you say?</p><p>Europa continued, “You used to be so strong.  What the hell happened to you?”</p><p>To this, I had no words.  Nothing came to my mind right then and there that I could shoot back at her.  My brain was so rattled by the slap that I couldn’t think.  Obviously it wasn’t pain—I’d suffered worse by far—but the sudden aggression shook me.</p><p>“Goodnight, Europa,” was all I managed to say as I turned and headed towards the front door.</p><p>Europa allowed me to take a few steps before she said, “Remember, Isabella, who you are.”</p><p>It wasn’t until I was back at my apartment that I can really think about what she said.  The sting of her hand has faded into a warm glow on my cheek.  I wish I had been able to tell her right then and there that ‘what happened to me’ was that I went to the Hunger Games.  Some people emerge from the arena stronger.  Some people come out broken.  But me . . . I don’t really know what happened to me.</p><p>Because I can’t really remember.</p><p>Is that stupid or what?  Here I am, a Career victor, and I haven’t watched a single recap out of my own free will.  Of course I saw it all at the presentation of the victor when I left the arena, but I don’t remember it, like I had slept through the whole thing or something.  And over the years, I’ve seen bits and pieces as it’s highlighted on the television and I know that it is me.  It’s familiar and I know that I’ve done the things that they’re showing.  I know that I have been there in that arena.  But I couldn’t tell you everything I did or all the people I killed or anything like that.  It’s all gone, just like it never happened. </p><p>Sometimes I’m tempted to go back and watch it, or maybe if that’s too hard, I’ll read it in an old newspaper.  But then I remember the nightmares I have and I just don’t want to even broach the topic.  If I did something so great and glorious, why am I plagued with nightmares of twisted, rotting faces?  Why do I have the sensation of stabbing people I know and love over and over and over, even though they were never in the arena with me?  I know that all victors get nightmares because the stress of the arena is too much to handle, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.  Why do we put ourselves through that?  And what did I do that prevents me from remembering it at all?</p><p>I’ve never told a soul because it just sounds too damned crazy to be believed.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I ate breakfast by myself today.</p><p>It’s weird having my own place to live.  The apartment isn’t massive—some victors like to get the biggest ones they can find—but it’s not small, either.  There should be at least three more people in here to make it seem right.  After all, it has four bedrooms and four bathrooms.  But victors don’t really share places with each other, at least not much more than a night or two; it’s like we intentionally live in giant chasms to escape from whatever haunts us.</p><p>What haunts us?</p><p>I know what haunts Europa.  I know that she thinks she is being chased by a muttation sometimes, and other time she feels herself getting sliced to pieces by her district partner.  I only know this because I’ve listened to her when she walks the hallways at home.  She would never tell me directly.  Victors don’t talk like that between each other, especially not victor sisters who were raised to believe that there was nothing more important than the Hunger Games.</p><p>When we were younger, Mom and Dad hired a personal trainer to make sure that we succeeded in the arena.  There’s thousands and thousands of teenagers who yearn to have their chance in the Hunger Games, and we have to be able to prove that we are better than any of the others to be chosen.  (At least Europa did.  Once Europa was victor, it was relatively easy for Avalon and me to volunteer as long as we could prove we weren’t utter failures.  Since neither of us are, we got in.)  I used to be so proud that we had our own trainer.  Technically he wasn’t just ours since we had to share him with several other families, but the schedule was worked out so that just the three of us would meet up with him four days a week for several hours at a time.  He worked us so hard between the weaponry and survival skills.  Plus we were expected to do a ridiculous amount of cardio on our own. It seems a lifetime ago, and yet I know I’ll never forget the pure exhaustion that I endured day in and day out.  All to go to the Hunger Games.  To kill.  To be forever tormented in the small hours of night when everyone else is sleeping peacefully.</p><p>The question remains: What haunts me?</p><p> </p><p>As I took a cab to the training center this morning, I wondered how much of a difference three years would make for Avalon.  Maybe I’m not being fair.  She started working with the personal trainer the same time we did, so she’s technically had more training than us since both Europa and I quit as soon as we volunteered.  I remember how she would tote around these giant swords and spears.  She couldn’t lift any of them, so the trainer gave her smaller versions.  But even those were massive compared to her small frame.  Still, she stepped up to the challenge and mastered the weapons, first on the child’s size, and then on the full size.  I vowed to be more supportive of my sister and now to belittle her abilities purely because of her age.</p><p>The tributes were already in their training room by the time I arrived, so I headed to the mentor room.  But when I got there, I found that neither Europa nor any of the other mentors in the Career pack were present.  Whatever.  They probably had their own mentor things to do.  I turned around to leave when I almost ran face-first into Isolde Lee, the District 1 victor from the 135<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games.</p><p>She grinned at me.  “Hey, Isabella,” she said.</p><p>I like Isolde.  She’s always been very welcoming.  Tries to include me in things.</p><p>“Where is everyone?” I asked her.</p><p>“At the Casa.  A bunch of us are going to go over plans and have a leisurely lunch.  I’m going to meet them there—didn’t you get the memo?” she asked.  But as soon as she saw my confused expression, she added, “You can ride with me.  I just have to grab a few things.”</p><p>See what I mean when I say that she tries to include me in things?  But when you don’t get invited to an outing that you know you should have been invited to if other non-mentoring victors were being invited, having someone try to let you tag along is a bit embarrassing.</p><p>“No thanks.  I was about to head out to the museum.  I’ll catch you later.”</p><p>Complete lie, but now that I said it, it sounded like a good idea.  What else was I going to do with my time?</p><p>So that’s what I did.  The Capitol Museum is a spectacular creation.  It houses a wide variety of displays and exhibits and enclosures from everything from history to the Hunger Games to the environment.  Plus there are also rotating exhibits so that every time I go, there’s always something different.  This time, however, I found it challenging focusing on things.  I skipped the Hunger Games section entirely because I just didn’t want to think about the meeting that was going on that I wasn’t invited to.</p><p>After wallowing in my own self-pity all day, I decided to do something about it.  There had to be a reason I wasn’t invited, right?  So when everyone returned to the training center apartments in the evening, I hunted down Europa and pulled her aside.</p><p>“What the hell?” I demanded.  “Why wasn’t I invited to the Casa?”</p><p>We stood in the hallway of the District 1 apartment because there was nowhere more private that I had access to.  Not a mentor, so I don’t get a mentor room.</p><p>Europa stared hard at me.  “Because your input wasn’t needed,” she said simply.</p><p>“What?” I asked.  “What does that mean?  You invited others who weren’t mentoring.”</p><p>“Yes because we wanted their opinions on things,” she said simply.  She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest.  In the comfort of the apartment, she had taken off her over shirt and was wearing a tank-top that showed thick arm muscles powerful enough to wield a heavy blunt.</p><p>“And you didn’t want mine?  Didn’t you just tell me to be more supportive?  I want to be supportive—I want to help!” I struggled to keep my voice down.</p><p>“You will,” Europa said calmly.  “But not right now.  Your help will be needed later, I’m sure.”</p><p>Well I am glad that <em>she</em> was sure because I sure as hell wasn’t.  From where I stand, they had already shut me out.</p><p> “Fine.  Fine whatever,” I muttered as I started to head down the hallway.</p><p>“Oh, don’t make this all about you, Isabella,” Europa said to my back.  “Avalon is the important one here, so get your head out of your ass.”</p><p>I bit down a reply and walked to the table for dinner with Europa’s eyes on me every step of the way.  Of course Avalon was the important one—I never said otherwise.  I just didn’t want to be shunned by everyone for . . . well, whatever reason.  You would think that my own sister would <em>want</em> to have my help.  I’m not sure what happened in the course of the past few days, but Europa had never been this callous towards me.  Have I done something wrong?</p><p>“What did you do today, Avalon?” I asked once we had all sat down at the table.</p><p>She shrugged.  “Talked with a bunch of people.  Showed off some of my skills.  Everyone pretty much knows that I am an expert with knives thanks to Grandma.”</p><p>Yeah, that happens.  When you’re famous, there are no secrets.  Everybody knew I was damned good with swords before I entered the arena because they managed to get an interview with people back home.  And it was no secret at home.</p><p>“Tell me about the tributes,” Europa said.</p><p>Avalon began to list off each tribute, giving comments about each of them.  As she spoke, I could tell which tributes she considered to be worthy adversaries and which ones were essentially written off.  Europa nodded her head as our sister gave her assessment.  Although I had never met the kids, it seemed to be pretty detailed observations.  Everything from who stayed away from which stations to what type of food she noticed other tributes eating.  In the battle of the Hunger Games, it’s important to notice even the little details that could easily be overlooked.</p><p>I glanced over at Edric and Hammer who were listening carefully to my sister’s information.  Although we victors consider ourselves to be friends or at least good acquaintances, our tributes are not.  No matter how friendly they are, no matter how much they seem to get along—they will end up killing each other.  Some of the other districts can rest assured that even if their tributes make it to the finale, the district partners will not.  But when year after year your tributes end up in the final few, there’s no avoiding the fact that one will likely have to kill the other.  For that reason, it seemed careless for Avalon to speak so freely about her opponents.  I would have said something but didn’t want to be called out for being unsupportive.</p><p>“What about the pair from 10?” Europa asked.  She ate slowly, chewing each bite for several seconds too long as she listened intently to what Avalon was saying.</p><p>“The girl was TERRIBLE with plant identification,” Avalon replied.  She rolled her eyes.  “I haven’t seen anyone botch things up that badly.”</p><p>And so on.</p><p>When dinner came to an end, I was prepared for Europa to sit down and shoot Avalon full of information.  Instead, however, our older sister clapped her hands and said, “Time for some private mentoring.  If you will excuse us. . . .”</p><p>She looked around the table at us and gave us a nod.  Then she turned to me, “See you tomorrow.”</p><p>Okay, I got the point.  So I stood up as graciously as I could, took my jacket, and bid them a good evening.  Hammer looked between Europa and myself with confusion (yeah, bud, me too), but I didn’t linger on it.  I left.  To say that it was awkward is an understatement.</p><p> </p><p>In reviewing the last few pages that I wrote, I understand that I have tried to make myself available for my sisters, but neither of them are receptive to it.  If that’s how Europa wants to run things, fine.  I understand that my presence isn’t wanted. </p><p>But my insides are all mashed up because it feels so shitty to continually be rejected.  It’s not that I have <em>fun</em>, per se, when I come to the Capitol for the Hunger Games, but I shouldn’t be made to feel worthless all the time.</p><p>So I’m going to change things.  If Europa really wants my help, she can come ask me herself.  What type of victor follows after her big sister anyhow?</p><p>I’ll just . . . keep myself company.  With the demons that haunt me, whoever they are.  Or whatever.  I don’t care.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s the third day of training, but instead of going to the training center, I went to the museum instead.  Although I was just here, all the turmoil in my brain had distracted me and kept me from appreciating it.  Besides, I have a free pass—one of the benefits of being a victor.</p><p>People are getting riled up about the Hunger Games.  You can see it on their faces when they walk down the street or browse shops.  They bounce around from foot to foot, craning their necks to see what the latest display boards say: which tributes are most popular right now, which ones have the best chances of survival, which ones are the crowd favorites.  Even though no one has any idea what’s happening in the training center, the percentages and points go up and down wildly.  Rumors and bits of information float into the population from inside the training center.  It’s nothing massive that will get anyone fired for leaking confidential information, but just enough to tease the crowd.  Somebody thought that an extra medic was needed in the training room, another person thought they saw a tribute in the main lobby flexing his muscles.  Etc.   It’s stupid.</p><p>Now that I wasn’t so lost in my own thoughts, I could see that people were eyeing me with excitement.  I know that many wanted to ask me questions, but most restrained themselves for the time being.  Some requested autographs.  A few kids ran up to me and asked me things such as what Avalon’s favorite color was or if they could have a photo or if they could give me a hug.  I happily obliged each one because even though their parents can get on my nerves sometimes, the kids themselves are pretty adorable.</p><p>“Thank you!” squealed a little girl as she and her friends bounded away towards their parents.  They proudly clasped the museum brochure in their hands where I signed the last page for them.</p><p>I watched as they were folded into the loving embraces of their parents who scooped them away towards the next exhibit, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over their signed brochures the children showed them.  Such simple things could bring kids pleasure, and I was happy to provide it for them.</p><p>“Is that because you’re a career or because of your sister?” came a voice.</p><p>I turned around to see the newest victor, Cassiopeia of District 5, perched on a bench, watching me carefully.  I hadn’t ever paid too much attention to her in person.  She was attractive enough with smooth skin and high cheekbones.  Her straight red hair reached her abdomen, smooth as water pouring over her shoulders.  Her dark eyes were keen, quiet.  Observant.</p><p>“Pardon me?” I asked.</p><p>She never took her eyes off me.  Didn’t flinch as I walked over.</p><p>“I was just wondering if that—” she nodded in the direction the little kids had disappeared “—was because you’re a career victor or because your sister’s going to the arena.”</p><p>“It’s because I’m a victor, period.  I’m surprised they aren’t all over you,” I said as I sat down at the bench near her.</p><p>She recoiled visibly but I pretended not to notice.</p><p>“They don’t seem to want to be anywhere near me,” she said stiffly.  “Not complaining, of course.”</p><p>“Nah.  The popularity isn’t for everyone,” I replied.  Though I meant it as a comfort, it probably sounded a little condescending.  So I switched topics.  “I’m surprised Elijah isn’t mentoring this year.  He’s pretty much a staple in the mentoring room.”</p><p>Cassiopeia sat back on the bench, but her body didn’t relax.  She was still very much on edge, eyes darting out and across the crowd.</p><p>“One of his daughters died,” she said.</p><p>Oh.  I didn’t know what to say to that.  It’s unfortunate, but I really don’t know him that well and was kind of trying to make small talk.  How does one respond?  ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t make sense if I’m not saying it to Elijah himself, and ‘that’s too bad’ is too trite.</p><p>“James helping you out?” I finally decided on.</p><p>She shrugged.  “As much as one can help in a situation like this.”</p><p>She wasn’t able to relax.  She was scanning the crowd, waiting for something to happen.</p><p>“Let’s take a walk,” I said as I stood up.</p><p>Cassiopeia’s eyes shifted to me for a moment as though processing something, but at long last she followed my lead.</p><p>“Have you been to this museum before?” I asked her.  Probably not since everyone just arrived to the Capitol and most non-Career victors never come out here unless they have to.  But again, it’s just small talk.</p><p>She shook her head.</p><p>“Great.  First time is wonderful,” I said.  I pushed my rolled-up brochure in her hands.  “Let’s go see the aquarium.”</p><p>I led her through the museum to a corner that is dedicated solely for aquatic animals.  I figured it would be a safe place to start since many other sections might remind her of the Hunger Games.  But aquatic life shouldn’t bother either of us, at least not for arena-related purposes.</p><p>Cassiopeia’s eyes lit up in the blue glow of the aquarium.  Her mouth opened as if she meant to say something, but quickly closed again.  The nervous, edgy behavior melted away as she was overcome by sheer awe.  I grinned as I watched her.  They must not have anything like this in District 5.  Everyone else around us was too mesmerized by the floor-to-ceiling tanks filled with a variety of oceanic creatures—whales, sharks, fish, rays—to take notice of two victors.</p><p>She seemed to forget me entirely as she hurried from one display to another, lingering at each stop to stare out into the blue abyss.  I trailed behind her, keeping my distance as I admired the exhibits, but I had seen these things all a half-dozen times over.  My attention often shifted to Cassiopeia.</p><p>“What do you think?” I asked as I caught up to her at a tank she lingered on longer than the others.  A great glass wall in front of us held some of the largest sharks ever seen (according to the sign).  They weaved lazily through the water, large jaws trembling as they pumped water through their gills.</p><p>“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Cassiopeia said as she pressed one of her palms against the cool glass.  “And to think I just had to kill a few kids to get this opportunity.”</p><p>At first I thought she was being sarcastic, but she wasn’t.  She was really staring out into the great tank contemplating the actions that lead her here.</p><p>“No, I don’t think so,” she said suddenly, almost to herself.</p><p>“Pardon me?” I asked, but she didn’t seem to hear me.  I watched her as her lips moved slightly, soundlessly.</p><p>She jerked her head over to me.  After a moment, she said, “Why are you being nice to me?”</p><p>“Because I want to be,” I replied.</p><p>“You’re a Career.”</p><p>“I <em>was</em> a Career.  Now I’m a victor.”</p><p>Once I overheard someone joke that non-Career victors get overwhelmed when Career victors first talk to them, but I thought they were just making things up.  We’re all victors whether we were originally wanted to be there or not.  I just never experienced it for myself because the girl who won a year after me was from District 2.</p><p>Cassiopeia studied me hard for several seconds as though she may see through me somehow and extract some truth that I had hidden.  But I hid nothing.  I’m a victor.  She’s a victor.</p><p>At last she pushed herself away from the tank.  I fell in pace next to her.  She didn’t protest, and I didn’t bring up the issue again.  We remained silent for the remainder of the aquarium.</p><p>As we were about to exit the aquarium into the main body of the museum, my cell phone beeped.  I paused to dig it out of my pocket.  Cassiopeia watched wide-eyed as though I personally emitted the beeping and were about to explode, and I could see her tense shoulders relax ever-so-slightly when I pulled the cell phone out.  I checked the message and looked up.</p><p>“I have an interview tomorrow,” I told her.  “Probably going over the training scores.  They’re being released tonight.”</p><p>“They just . . . schedule you interviews?” she asked.</p><p>“Yeah,” I said.  “They’ll probably schedule you one, too, at some point.”</p><p>This didn’t comfort her.  If anything, it made her body even tenser.</p><p>“They’re pretty mindless once you get the hang of them,” I explained.  “Sometimes they’ll throw in questions you really have to think about, but most of the time it’s all pretty much the same stuff rehashed over and over.”</p><p>“Such as?” The hesitation in her voice indicated that maybe she’d rather not know.</p><p>“They’ll ask you about your own Hunger Games on occasion—but you can just tell them generic answers, it’s what I do—but most of the time they want to know what you think about your tribute,” I explained.  “Whether it’s training scores or how long you think they’ll last or their prospects in the arena.”</p><p>I shrugged.</p><p>Cassiopeia, on the other hand, looked horrified.  She paused and glanced around us.  I followed her gaze.  We were almost alone; the few people in the same room were admiring the fish, though, and weren’t paying any attention to us.</p><p>“I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said after a pause, and straightened herself up.  “It’ll be fine.  I’ll handle whatever they throw me.”</p><p>“Make sure to check your phone,” I advised.  “They send you updates and schedules.”</p><p>“Oh.” She paused and thought about it.  “I think mine is in my room at the training center.”</p><p>“You’re probably fine—just check it when you get back,” I said.  She nodded.  I paused to shove the phone back into my pocket and the two of us headed out into the main area of the museum.</p><p>Admittedly, I paid little attention for the remaining time were wandered idly around.  Sometimes things caught Cassiopeia’s attention, but mostly it seemed that the two of us were trapped in our own thoughts.  I can only guess what she was thinking, but my own brain was trying to figure out this interview for tomorrow.  Was it with Europa or was I on my own?  Which one was better?</p><p>At last, Cassiopeia said goodbye.  I told her that I would catch up with her later.  She didn’t look thrilled, but she also didn’t say no, so I guess that’s as good as I’m going to get. I watched as she disappeared out the front doors into the bright sunlight.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the evening, everyone from the District 1 team showed up in the training center apartment to watch the training scores together.  And by “everyone” I mean that besides myself, Avalon, Europa, Edric, and Hammer, there was also Mildred Honeydew, the escort; Bilford and Blue-Anna, the stylists; and the various victors like myself who happened to be in the Capitol for the event.  Even though the avoxes brought in extra furniture, we still sat shoulder-to-shoulder so that everybody would have a seat.</p><p>Everyone was alive with excitement.  Even the tributes, who were bantering back-and-forth with the various people in the room.  Neither of them would reveal what they did for their training sessions, which lead to wilder and wilder ideas as people took turns guessing.</p><p>I sat squished between Isolde and Jericho, the victor of the 122<sup>nd</sup> Hunger Games.  Isolde was loud enough for the two of us, which allowed me to just watch everyone around me.  Avalon was sitting in an armchair squeezed in with Europa.  Europa was giving her bits and pieces of advice in between the conversation, weaving Hunger Games knowledge into the revelry of the event.  Neither of them paid me any attention.  True to my promise to myself, I didn’t try to butt in or make my presence known.  I was here as a victor only and not a mentor.  And they were ignoring the other victors as well, so I told myself that I shouldn’t take it personally.</p><p>“Are you ready?” Isolde asked me.  She grabbed my hand and squeezed it.  “What do you think she got?”</p><p>“At least a three,” I said with a grin.</p><p>“Hey!  I heard that!” shouted Avalon.  “I probably got like at least a four.”</p><p>All bantering died out the moment that Caligula Klora appeared on screen.  The hush that fell across the room pulsated with energy as we waited for the Hunger Games interviewer to hurry up and get to the numbers.</p><p>When Europa went to the arena, she received a 10.  When I went, I received a 9.  I really hoped that Avalon would get <em>at least</em> an 8.  Anything lower than that would mark her as useless, at least in terms of Careers.  A 6 or 7 would be great for a non-Career tribute, but it would be a death sentence for someone who had trained her whole life to stand out.</p><p>“From District 1, Edric Maldonado received a training score of 9!”</p><p>Everyone cheered.  Nine is pretty good.  It’s not the best, but for a Career, it’s a solid score.  I remember that I had been relieved but not really pleased to receive a 9.</p><p>“From District 1, Avalon Vitner received a training score of 11!”</p><p>And if people were cheering before, they were absolutely crazy right now.  All of us were screaming at the top of our lungs.  I couldn’t even remember the last time a tribute scored 11.  I wiggled out from my seat and threw my arms around Avalon.  Me and everyone else.  We created a giant pile of people howling and laughing and congratulating.  Eleven!  Better than myself, better than Europa!  I wiped the tears that rolled down my cheeks onto my sleeve and finally managed to untangle myself from the swarm of bodies.  I felt foolish for doubting her so much.  Of course she was capable.  Of course.  As Europa said, she is a Vitner.</p><p>Once everyone calmed down, we had to rewind the broadcast to watch the rest of the training scores.  It was all pretty typical, and no one could compare to Avalon.  Both from District 2 received 9s, the girl from District 4 received an 8 and the boy received a 10.  The rest of the districts were a smattering of 4s and 5s with the occasional 2 and 3.  The girl from District 7 only got a 6, while both from District 10 received 8s.  Avalon gobbled up this information eagerly, exchanging comments with people about the things she liked and didn’t like about the other tributes, with the exception of the other Careers, about whom she remained silent.</p><p>As the excitement for the evening dwindled, avoxes came around and passed out glasses of champagne and small chocolates.  Avalon politely declined—not part of her diet—but she was too busy chattering with everyone anyway.</p><p>“I’m so proud of you,” I told her.</p><p>She beamed.  “You didn’t think I could do it.”</p><p>“Of course not—you’re my little sister.  I’m just nervous, that’s all,” I replied.</p><p>“Oh, ye of little faith.  Just you wait til I’m in the arena, okay?” she said.</p><p>Insufferably cocky.  That sort of attitude would lead her right into a muttation or event.  Or hell, maybe it would piss off another tribute and get her killed outright.  But I knew that she was super excited about the score and didn’t want to ruin the mood, so I let it drop.</p><p>With all the excitement, I didn’t get a chance to ask Europa if she’s going to the interview tomorrow.  I guess I’ll find out at 10:00 AM.  The evening was over as fast as it began, with everyone chatting as they bid each other goodnight and disappeared to their room or down the elevator to the lobby.</p><p>At this time, I’m pretty tired, so it’s best if I stop writing.  Beauty sleep and all that.  (Or maybe a lot of caffeine and makeup.)</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Remember when I said that interviews were easy enough once you know the sorts of questions they ask you?  I was being stupid.  Clearly.  Because I wasn’t nearly as prepared as I should have been.  It’s not that they asked anything earthshattering or whatever; it’s just that I kind of blanked.  I’m getting ahead of myself, though.</p><p>Once I arrived at the training center, I was not surprised to find Europa already there.</p><p>“Ready?” she asked me when I walked up.</p><p>“Yep,” I said.  Whatever animosity between us seemed to have fizzled with the excitement of last night, and I wasn’t about to bring it back up.  It was good to have my sister back—I must not have been the only one nervous about Avalon entering the arena, even if Europa didn’t want to admit it.</p><p>A training center coordinator brought us onto the front property of the training center which had a brand-new stage built in front of the door.  It looked out to the main square where hundreds and hundreds of people packed in tightly for a chance to listen to our interview.  Even more would be watching at home; cameras filled every nook and cranny that wasn’t occupied by people.  It was the usual sort of interview.</p><p>Caligula Klora waved to us and motioned for Europa and me to take a seat on the bench near him.</p><p>“Good morning, ladies!” he welcomed us.</p><p>“Morning,” we replied in unison.  We had not planned to time our responses, but everyone must have thought that we did because there was a small hum of laughter from the audience.</p><p>Caligula launched in with the standard questions/comments: “You must be so proud of your sister.” “Her training score was 11!  Did that surprise you?”  “Did the fact that she scored better than either of you make you jealous?”</p><p>Blah, blah, blah.  We gave all the standard answers.  Europa was ‘proud, stoic, big-sister mentor’ and I was ‘proud but humble big-sister not-mentor.’</p><p>“You guys probably spent a lot of time growing up together, didn’t you?” Caligula asked us.</p><p>“Yes we did,” Europa replied.  “And we knew from all the time we spent together that one day she would follow in our footsteps; we just didn’t know when.”</p><p>“Were you guys close growing up?” he asked.</p><p>“Yes, definitely,” I replied.  “We did almost everything together.”</p><p>“Isabella, would you say that you’re closer with Europa or Avalon?”</p><p>“Oh, hmm,” I pretended like I was thinking.  “It really depends on the situation.  Sometimes I’m closer with Europa and other times I’m closer with Avalon.  We each have inside jokes with each other.”</p><p>“Care to tell us some?” he asked.</p><p>“Then it wouldn’t be inside,” I responded with a bit of tease.</p><p>“Oh, fair enough,” Caligula conceded.  “How about a memory?  Any special memory you have with Avalon?”</p><p>Without attempting to recall a thought from the past, a memory began to drift into my mind.  A spring day.  A treehouse.  We were pirates.  It seemed to be so long ago that I can’t even really place how old we were or anything like that.  But I could still smell the freshly-cut lawn and hear the crunch of leaves as we tromped through the woods on our property.</p><p>“We had a treehouse,” I began.  “We used to spend so much time in there—pretending we were pirates.”</p><p>By my side, Europa stiffened.  It was an almost imperceptible movement that I nearly missed entirely, so wrapped in my memory.</p><p>“At one point, we made a map to find buried treasure.  I can’t remember what the treasure was—probably just a few coins we hid under a couple inches of dirt—but we made the map and decided to lock it away so that in a couple of years, it would really be a mystery.”</p><p>“Did you ever go back and find it?” Caligula asked with genuine curiosity.</p><p>“No . . .  I don’t believe we ever did.  I bet I still have the map somewhere.”</p><p>Caligula straightened up.  “Well!  Once the Hunger Games end, you’ll have to go find it.”</p><p>A dreamy smile slipped across my lips.  “Yes, we’ll do that.”  But I really couldn’t remember where that map was, or even what the treasure may have been.</p><p>“What about you, Europa?  Any special memories you have?”</p><p>Europa cleared her throat and took a few moments to start.  I had to forcibly pull myself out of my memory to focus on what she was saying—a tale about helping Avalon run her first full mile—and continue on with the rest of the interview.</p><p>The audience seemed to be eating up whatever we said, and they couldn’t get enough of our sisterly bonding.  But by my side, Europa remained tense—quite unusual for her during an interview.  I did something wrong.  I knew that I did something wrong.  But there was no way for me to take it back and no way to ask for her forgiveness at this point.  And did I need to ask for forgiveness?  I only shared a memory.</p><p>As soon as the interview ended and Europa and I were bid farewell, we calmly stepped back into the training center.</p><p>That was where the façade ended.  Europa grabbed my arm and half-dragged me towards the nearest women’s bathroom.  After checking to make sure that all of the stalls were empty, Europa rounded on me.</p><p>“What the fuck, Isabella?!” she demanded.  Fury throbbed in her features.  Her eyes glowed with anger I had never witnessed in my life.  She seemed to suck all the oxygen from the room.  I took a step back as though that would allow me to breathe, to think.</p><p>It was only a memory.  My memory.</p><p>But that wasn’t the problem.</p><p>That memory did not belong to Avalon and me.  It was mine, but it also belonged to someone else whose own memory had been wiped completely blank.  A person who was removed from every record on file.  You can’t find his birth certificate or his school report card or even his reaping sign-in sheet.  That person ceases to exist in every possible manner.</p><p>Except for my memory.</p><p>Because my little brother Augustus is dead and has been for five years.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My family is full of lies and secrets.  You don’t get two victor children—possibly three—without being messed up in some terrible manner.  And the Vitner family’s messed up in a great many ways.</p><p>Augustus Vitner is the missing piece that united our family, filling the age gap between myself and Avalon.  Born two years after me—right in between Avalon and myself—he was the only boy in our family.</p><p>And he was my best friend.</p><p>He was thirteen when he died.  I was fifteen.  It was the year before Europa entered the Hunger Games and our family shot to true fame.  Augustus and I trained together non-stop, though it didn’t feel like training when we could just be goofing off and hanging around with each other.  We both planned on going to the Hunger Games, but neither of us ever thought it was a possibility.  After all, there were thousands and thousands of kids who would be volunteering, so what would make <em>anyone</em> decide that we were the ones who would represent District 1?  We trained hard regardless, but we also made plans for our futures.</p><p>I love Europa, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t always like her.  Does that make sense?  We’ve clashed quite a bit over the years, and sometimes she was just too much to handle.  I was expected to follow her in every way—from the types of people I was friends with, to what clothes I wore, to how I thought about things.  Since my family was very Hunger Games oriented (thanks, Grandma), and Europa was bound and determined to volunteer, it was expected that I had the same attitude as my older sister.  I didn’t.  I wasn’t against volunteering.  It’s just that where Europa is stubborn and driven to meet her lofty goals, I am more laid-back and sensible.  To me, entering the arena was a risk.  To Europa, it was destiny.  My parents hated this.  They wanted me to not just want to volunteer but to want to volunteer for the <em>same reasons</em> as Europa.  The fact that I thought differently was too much.</p><p>Augustus was my sanctuary.  In him, I could confide whatever I was feeling.  The thoughts that raced through my brain would be calmed if only I could speak with him.  He was my confidant, as I was his. </p><p>Mom and Dad didn’t let him off just because he wasn’t Europa Volume 2.  They thought that he, as a boy, should be eager to go to the arena, like the desire to obliterate his peers was some great sign of masculinity.  The wretched part was that they were worse on him than they were on me.  With me, I got lectures that made me feel like shit for having my own thoughts and opinions.  But with Augustus, they pushed him physically.  He was started on larger weapons younger than either myself or my sisters were, he was expected to run farther and faster than any of us, and he wasn’t allowed any sort of leeway.  Not that any of us were let off the hook if we failed to meet our duties, but they were stricter with him.</p><p>One day they pushed him too hard.  And he just . . . died.</p><p>We were in a week of fasting, but despite the lack of food and water, we were still expected to train as usual.  It was grueling.  Horrible.  I can’t even find words to describe the sort of agony your body goes through when it’s pushed and bent and stretched to the limits.  It was worse than anything I experienced in the arena, I’m sure of it.  But they pushed Augustus farther than any of us girls and it was just too much.  Starvation, dehydration, exhaustion.  My lovely, lovely brother was gone.</p><p>Just like that.</p><p>The worst part—if it weren’t bad enough that my little brother and favorite person died—was that we weren’t allowed to mourn him before he was expunged from the records.  It’s not common for this to happen, and all of it was kept hushed up.  My sisters and I switched schools, snatched away from our friends from whom we were forbidden most contact.  The records from my brother were erased, which cost my parents quite a sum of money paid under the table.  We were forbidden from talking about him.  We couldn’t sit there and discuss about anything that might bring him up.  If we wanted to talk about the time we kids went to the park and had a picnic, for example, we were expected to remove Augustus from the memory entirely.  Who had their sandwich stolen by somebody’s dog?  Augus—nope, it was Avalon definitely.</p><p>I’m sure my parents were sad that they had lost their child and only son.  But even more traumatizing than the death of their child was the fear that someone would one day look back and see that there was a part of the bloodline that was not strong enough to fight through the trials he was given.</p><p>And that’s how there came to be us three girls.  No one can go into the records and pull up information about Augustus.  No one can ask us at interviews if we missed him, or ask about his death.  No one will know that he died training and did not emerge victorious like Europa and myself.</p><p>If he were alive, this would have been his Hunger Games.  But instead it is Avalon’s.  I’m not bitter towards her, but I have to question why she chose this year of all years.  Why did she choose Augustus’ year?</p><p>Perhaps she is only trying to win favor of my parents by helping to remove Augustus’ memory even further.  I don’t know.</p><p>I don’t care.</p><p>I loved Augustus.</p><p>His memory is still within me.  Sometimes I have trouble unwinding it from all of the lies I’ve told over the past five years, but it’s all still there.  And now I am putting it on paper so that it will not be wrapped up deep within myself but displayed prominently on this piece of paper.  Maybe, if someone were to find this notebook, it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought it would be.  Maybe people need to know about Augustus.</p><p>But I fear that there are other things I’ll divulge here that are far more incriminating than what was done to Augustus, and there are things that I can’t let anyone else find out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Europa pushed me up against the bathroom wall, her hand grasping the collar of my shirt and her knuckles digging into my throat.</p><p>“What the <em>hell</em> is your problem?” she demanded.</p><p>“I—can’t—” I gasped for air.  Europa moved her knuckles ever so slightly so that I was allowed a modicum of breathing room.  “It’s my memory!  I can tell it if I—”</p><p>Europa’s other fist shot out before I could react.  Pain radiated across my jaw and into my cheek, and for a second my vision completely blurred.  I found myself gasping, this time from pain.  My eyes watered.  Once they were able to focus on Europa, she met my gaze ever-so-briefly before she threw me to the floor.</p><p>I landed hard on the tile and lay there, stunned.</p><p>“Europa, I—”</p><p>Without a word, she turned her back on me and walked to the door.</p><p>Pushing myself into a sitting position, I cupped my injured jaw in my palm and stared at her as she paused with one hand on the handle.  She drew in a deep breath, then opened the door.</p><p>“Hello?” she called out.  “Hey, you—my sister fell down.  She hit her face on the counter—get a medic!”</p><p>I was on my feet within a heartbeat despite the sudden dizziness that nearly took me out again.  My hand reached out and steadied itself on the counter.</p><p>“I’m fine,” I announced.  “Don’t worry about me.”</p><p>Europa didn’t move from the door for a minute or two, her back to me the entire time, until a medic arrived.  She stepped aside for him and gestured to me as though my location might be difficult to determine.  But I was there, propped up against the counter right where I had been the entire time.</p><p>“Sit down, Miss Vitner,” said the medic, motioning me back onto the ground.  He helped me sit back down, and then he asked, “What happened?”</p><p>“There was some water on the floor.  Slipped,” I lied easily enough.  He didn’t seem to notice that the floor was bone dry.  Instead he began checking me over for any sign of head trauma, made sure my pupils were normal and that I could focus okay.</p><p>I winced as his fingers touched my cheek.</p><p>“Hit the counter on the way down,” I muttered.</p><p>“Going to leave a nasty bruise,” he said.  “We can get you an x-ray to be certain, but I don’t think there’s been a fracture.”</p><p>“I’m fine, I’m sure,” I said.</p><p>“I’ll take care of her,” Europa said as she came and crouched down next to us.</p><p>The medic seemed to find me in acceptable shape and said to Europa, “Let her sit here until she’s ready to stand.  If there are any issues, call for us again immediately.”</p><p>“Not a problem,” Europa reassured him. “Thanks for your help.”</p><p>“Yeah, thanks,” I echoed.</p><p>The medic said goodbye and disappeared out of the bathroom door.  I watched as the door swung shut behind him and was about to gather my wits when all of a sudden Europa grasped my arm and pulled me to my feet.</p><p>“You’re fine,” she told me.  “You’ve had worse and you’ll get over this as you did everything else.”</p><p>Everything else.</p><p>I swallowed hard as my head spun, but it only took a second or two for things to clear.</p><p>“I’m going to head back to my apartment,” I told her.  I took one step, and then another, waiting for her to release her grip on my arm.</p><p>Instead Europa just squeezed tightly.  I winced but didn’t pull my arm away.</p><p>“What do you want?” I demanded, not bothering to hide the irritation that buzzed through me.</p><p>“I want you to watch it,” she ordered.  “You can’t be making a fool out of yourself.  You can’t be jeopardizing Avalon’s chances.”</p><p>I held her gaze for several seconds, not answering.  I was not jeopardizing anything by telling a memory that didn’t belong to Avalon.  No one would have known.  The only people on the planet who would have realized that it was not quite the truth were my immediate family, and not a single one of them would have said anything.  Even the government, who certainly still have top-secret records of Augustus, have no clue that this memory was inaccurately presented.  So what did it matter?</p><p>I wrenched my arm away.</p><p>“See you later, Europa,” I said coldly before I walked out the door.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I wonder how many families have secrets like ours.  I wonder how many kids go to bed at night crying because their brother or sister was killed and then erased from all of history.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I nearly collided with Cassiopeia of District 5 in the hallway outside the bathroom.</p><p>“Excuse me,” I muttered as I stepped out of her way.</p><p>“What happened to your face?” she asked, eyes on my jaw.</p><p>“Fell and hit the counter on the way down,” I replied.</p><p>“Bullshit.”</p><p>“Just ask the thirty-seven people who saw it happen,” I lied easily enough.</p><p>She studied me for a moment, but I walked away before she had the opportunity to say anything else.  There was a side door that lead out of the training center at the end of this hallway; no way was I going to go throw myself into the dispersing crowd out front, especially not with my face worsening by the moment.  I doubted that Cassiopeia was the only person who would see through that terrible excuse, and I’d have to figure out how to handle it at home.</p><p>But I’d only taken a few steps before I turned back around.</p><p>“Hey,” I said.</p><p>Cassiopeia froze, hand on the bathroom door.  “What?”</p><p>“What are you doing tomorrow?” I asked.</p><p>She furrowed her brow.  “Nothing?  Except for the tribute interviews in the evening,” she said.</p><p>“Meet me here at 9:00 AM,” I said.  “If you liked the Capitol Museum, I’ll show you something that will blow your mind.”</p><p>She snorted.  For a moment I thought she was going to outright decline, but after a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Yeah, sure.”  Then she disappeared into the bathroom.</p><p>I didn’t linger.  I’m not exactly sure why I asked her—it had been entirely spontaneous—but I felt better knowing that I had a plan and wasn’t going to be spending all of tomorrow twiddling my thumbs.  But I had to leave right then before Europa reappeared from the bathroom.  I wanted to be long gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In working on current and future chapters, I had to add a whole bunch o' tags.  Well, there's some fun times ahead, I guess.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Europa told me what happened at your interview,” Avalon said to me that evening after the festivities of the day had drawn to a close.  We sat in the sitting room of the District 1 apartment waiting for everyone to gather together for dinner.  “She said she wanted me to know in case they ask me about it at the interviews tomorrow.”</p><p>Huh, sure.  She probably told Avalon so that she could see what a let-down I am to the entire family.</p><p>But I only said, “Good thinking.  Don’t want you to be blindsided.”</p><p>She didn’t respond but I could feel her eyes on the bruise forming on my face.  I’m sure Europa left off that part of the story, but it didn’t take more than a second or two to put it all together.  None of us were normally prone to violence, however; we’d given each other plenty of bruises and lacerations and the like in training, but to outright punch out of anger was something entirely different.</p><p>It was a warning that the stakes were much higher now than they were at home before the Hunger Games began.  But why?</p><p>Avalon seemed to be processing this all, taking it in.  Did she realize what it meant?</p><p>“Are you ready for your interview?” I asked her.</p><p>She nodded.  “Yeah, ready enough.  Wish I didn’t have to do it, though.”</p><p>“Then all the years of speech lessons would be down the drain,” I said to her.</p><p>She rolled her eyes.  “Years of speech lessons for three minutes in the spotlight.”</p><p>“Nah, once you’re victor, they’ll put your speech training to good use,” I said.</p><p>Avalon didn’t respond.  At least not verbally.  Her eye were wide and her gaze a little distant as she looked at me, trying to communicate a thought across the gap between us.  I frowned, unsure what she was trying to say.  I would have asked her to vocalize it, but I knew I couldn’t, not if she had decided that her thoughts were too private to say in front of others.</p><p>She is afraid she might die, I realized with a jolt.  It must be hitting her right now, the consequences of her actions.  I drew in a slow, deep breath and leaned back in my chair.</p><p>Europa burst into the room. “Time for dinner,” she said to Avalon, motioning for her to follow to the table.</p><p>I stood up and meandered after them.  The avoxes were putting the final touches on the table as we sat down.</p><p>There were only the place settings for the three of us.</p><p>“Where is everyone else?” I asked.</p><p>“I thought that it would be nice to have dinner, just us three,” Europa said casually, like this happened every day.  But it didn’t.  How do you kick out half the people who inhabit this apartment?</p><p>Dinner, I knew immediately, was not going to be a pleasant experience.</p><p>It started off okay.  My body was tense, but after the first couple minutes as we passed around dishes and Europa carefully served food onto Avalon’s plate, I began to relax.  Maybe I was over exaggerating how this would go down.  It was nothing more than a family dinner.  The silverware clinked against the plates, the sound of heavy dishes being picked up and set down with gentle <em>thump</em>s—it all seemed pretty normal.</p><p>I was a few bites in when Europa started talking.</p><p>“If we want Avalon to kick ass in the arena, we all need to work as a team,” she said.</p><p>Avalon and I paused and shot the briefest of glances at each other.  Europa either didn’t notice or didn’t care because she was already continuing,</p><p>“I guess my expectations were high when I thought that Isabella wouldn’t need coaching to get her through interviews, but if I have to take time away from Avalon in order to help—”</p><p>“Oh, stop it,” I snapped.  “What the hell is your problem?”</p><p>“What is <em>my</em> problem?” Europa set down her fork and looked at me.  She remained calm but there was a hint of danger in her expression.  If the table hadn’t been separating us, I would be afraid that she’d lash out again.  “You have not been yourself!  Why the hell are you risking everything we’ve worked for—everything Avalon has worked for?”</p><p>“I’m not risking anything,” I snarled.  “Just because I didn’t tell the entire truth at the interview about a <em>memory</em> that no one else can have any reason to believe wasn’t true doesn’t mean that I am risking anything!  You’re making this into a bigger deal than it is!”</p><p>“This is why you can’t be included in everything,” Europa responded.  “This is why you can’t be trusted to be around in the conversations.  It’s not just the interview.  It’s the comments—asking why Avalon is even here, doubting her ability, wondering why we even go to the Hunger Games in the first place!  The interview was just the icing on the cake.”</p><p>“I didn’t—” But I knew it would fall on deaf ears.  I paused and turned to Avalon, addressing her instead of our older sister.  “Listen, I got scared and I have no idea why you didn’t wait another couple years.  Europa’s right that I shouldn’t doubt you, but I swear I never once said that I didn’t believe you could do it.  It’s just that there are always random factors—”</p><p>“Of <em>course</em> there are always random factors,” Europa cut me off.  “It’s how a tribute responds to those random factors that makes him or her a victor.  And really, I don’t think <em>you</em> of all people should have a problem with random factors because if it weren’t for that aspect of it, you wouldn’t be here.”</p><p>That shut me up.  I stared at her.  What did that mean?  Was there an event in the arena that allowed me to live while others died?  Is that why I can’t remember anything?</p><p>I didn’t have a way to respond to that, so I just said, “Stop it.  What’s the point of this conversation?  You’re just going to throw Avalon off her game if she’s too busy worrying about family quarrels.”</p><p>“I really think that Avalon should know the truth,” Europa said.</p><p>“And what truth is that?” I demanded.</p><p>“That her sister has no faith in her and wants to sabotage her chances of winning.”</p><p>“What?!” My fingers wrapped around my fork as I tried to calm myself.  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  After all the time and energy we put into preparing for the Hunger Games, why would I try to sabotage my own sister?</p><p>Europa chewed a bit of food slowly before she spoke again.  Her voice was quiet.  “Mom and Dad warned me this might happen.  That you tried to get them to withdraw their consent for Avalon’s volunteer release.”</p><p>No.  This is stupid.  Of course I tried to get them to withdraw!  She is only fifteen and should wait.</p><p>I looked at Avalon.  She was watching the two of us, eyes shifting first to the one and then to the other.</p><p>“But trying to sabotage her interview by throwing in false information was something that I didn’t think that you’d ever stoop to,” Europa continued.  I just stared at her open-mouthed.  All words were gone.  She knew as well as I did that it was not an attempt to mess her up.  That’s why she had punched me.  She was afraid of somebody—though heaven only knows who—finding out about Augustus from that one flimsy scrap of memory.  If she were afraid of sabotage, I doubt that she would have hit me at all, as messed up as that sounds.</p><p>“Why would I even <em>want</em> to sabotage, Avalon?” I demanded.  “If she doesn’t win, she dies.  I don’t want her dead.”</p><p>“You’re jealous,” Europa said simply.  “You want to be the youngest victor in the family.  You want the attention to be on you.”</p><p>I rolled my eyes.  “Europa, you’re being—”</p><p>Europa turned to our little sister.  “You are strong,” she said, her tone immediately changing from admonishment to encouragement.  “You will get through this.  Whatever happens will only make you stronger.  You have the training, the skills, and the common sense to be victor.”</p><p>Avalon nodded.  She scooped food into her mouth in a half-hearted attempt to eat normally.  But nothing was normal now, nor would it ever be again.</p><p>They continued eating in a tense silence.  Europa looked more relaxed than Avalon, but even Avalon was making sure she got in all the calories she was supposed to.</p><p>I, meanwhile, pushed the food around on my plate as I contemplated at what point in time my older sister became a psychopath.  Because oddly enough, it wasn’t when she was in the arena.</p><p>At long last, dinner came to an end and I was dismissed.  I said goodnight to them as calmly as I could, took my jacket, and left the apartment.  It was only when I was out on the streets that I felt like I could breathe again, and it was only when I was back here in the comfort of my own place that I could really try to piece things together.  Still, I am supremely lost.  What happened to Europa and why does she think that I am the one who is messed up?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I sat staring at this book for several minutes before deciding that I really need to do it: I need to try to remember my Hunger Games.  So I’m going to write down here everything I can possibly remember.  And then I’ll have to find a way to fill in the gaps.  Even if I don’t want to.  Even if I think I can’t.</p><p> </p><p>For the week leading up to volunteer day, I was completely torn.  I both wanted to go to the Hunger Games and I didn’t want to go.  The confusion and clashing thoughts drove me mad.  My entire life was written for this very moment, and yet I had seen what happened to Europa.  In the arena, she was beautiful.  Nearly flawless.  She was powerful and she dominated the other tributes.  From the very moment she stepped off the pedestal at the Cornucopia to the time she delivered the final blow with her heavy mace, it was clear that she was the one who would be leaving the arena alive.  But when she returned, she was different.  A ghost in the night.  A strange specter that wandered the hallways, weeping and moaning.  This was not the sister I once had.</p><p>But of course my family pretended there was no issue.  It’s a theme, you see.  If there is something that doesn’t fit with their concept of reality, my parents decide that it just doesn’t exist.  And my sister’s crumbling mental state was something that wasn’t appropriate, so it wasn’t acknowledged.  Besides, it was only at night, and it wasn’t like she couldn’t function during day.  In the waking hours, she was my wonderful, perfect Europa.  I remember how she bossed me around so much when we were trying to get our belongings together to move into her new victor mansion.  “The movers will be here any minute, Isabella.  Did someone fill your pants with concrete?  Keep moving!”  She’d given me a firm kick in the butt (literally) to get me moving at her pace, but at the same time she’d grab up the nearest box and help me carry it out the door.  That was my Europa.  Not the one that travelled up and down the wooden corridor of our new house, listless and empty.</p><p>If I went to the arena, I thought, would I be like her?  Would I be a ghost, yearning for freedom from whatever pain ate me from the inside?  How could it be that the thing we had prepared for our entire lives could change us in such a manner?  Weren’t we promised to be happy and successful in our victory?</p><p>I found myself out in the yard, far away from the house, under the shade of a large tree.  Even though we lived in Europa’s victor mansion, we often returned to our house for training.  Here in a copse of trees, I had built a small memorial to Augustus with a wooden cross made from two small twigs.  I didn’t dare write his name.  Instead I surrounded it with small white stones and placed a large half-burned candle by its side.  This is how I remembered him.  And it was out here that I talked to him when things got tough.</p><p>“Augustus,” I said to him, my voice a whisper as I kept the conversation just between the two of us.  “We used to dream of a future, but I’m afraid that it might not be possible now.  Not for you, not for me.  I am going to the Hunger Games, but I am not Europa.  I don’t have the courage and confidence and grace that she does.  I don’t have the drive.  I’m afraid . . . I’m afraid that I may not come back alive.”</p><p><em>But,</em> came a thought, <em>then at least I will not be alone.</em></p><p>A chill shook my body then and I hugged my arms across my chest.  Those words in my head—were they mine or were they his?  I felt foolish for even thinking it.  Augustus was long dead, and there was no way he could be speaking to me.  Despite this, I couldn’t help but play with the notion.  If I were dead, I will not be alone.</p><p>I laid down in the dirt underneath that tree and stared at the cross I had made for my brother.  If I were dead, I will not be alone.  I closed my eyes.</p><p>My father found me underneath that tree when I didn’t come in for dinner.</p><p>“Isabella?  You okay?” he asked.  I woke from my sleep, the sounds of his boots crunching the damp leaves with every step closer.  My eyelids fluttered heavily, but I managed to push myself up into a sitting position as he came to a halt and knelt down near me.  “Isabella?  What is that?”</p><p>My heart stopped.  Slowly I turned to see what he was looking at, but even before I saw the cross and candle, I knew that it was too late.  He had already seen it.</p><p>“It’s . . . for a squirrel I found,” I stammered blindly, still staring at the memorial.  Shit, he was never supposed to see this.  No one was supposed to see it.  Our property was large enough that it would be unlikely that anyone would venture back in here.  There was no denying the fact that Augustus’ death hit me harder than it did either of my other sisters since we had been so close.  Dad didn’t even need to ask to know what it was, not when Augustus and I used to make games out of playing with the smooth, white pebbles found down near the creek.</p><p>Dad grabbed me by my collar and slammed me against the ground.  The wind whooshed out of my lungs.</p><p>“What the hell is wrong with you, girl?!” he demanded.  His brows contorted in rage, his face grew red.  His veins throbbed.  Without waiting for a response, he shook me and slammed me back into the ground again.  I winced in pain but was distracted by his hands wrapping around my throat.  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing out here?  You are going to mess everything up!”</p><p>My vision began to blur.  His hands pressed into my throat.  His anger poured through his clasped fingers into my skin, burning my flesh as he applied pressure.  He continued to swear at me and insist that I was a complete and utter failure for making this small monument to honor my brother.</p><p>I couldn’t breathe.  Tried to gasp for breath.  Couldn’t get air.</p><p>He had never talked to me like this.  He had never hurt me.  Say what you want about my parents and their shitty method of raising us, but never once had I been treated like this.  There was nothing I could do about it now, though, as all I could do was focus on trying to breathe, but he had cut off the flow of oxygen.  My vision began to darken.</p><p>“After all we have done.  After all your <em>sister</em> has done.  This is how you treat us?  You repay us by doing THIS?”</p><p>I could hear his voice, but it was distant.  Far away.</p><p>“If someone ever found this. . . .”</p><p>All I could think was, <em>It doesn’t even have his name on it.</em></p><p>But it didn’t matter.</p><p>I could feel his spittle on my face as he shouted.  “I did not raise you girls to be this selfish!  I did not spend money to—”</p><p>And then in what must’ve been the last burst of rational thought before all oxygen drained from my brain, I remembered that yes, he did spend money on us.  To train us.  And in his rage, he would kill me.  He did not know how to choke someone without killing them because he had never had to train like we did.  A rush of adrenaline surged through me, and I lashed out, breaking his grasp on me with my arms and then swinging a leg around to give him a good kick in the stomach.  He staggered backwards and I heaved myself to my feet.</p><p>My vision slowly began to return, but I didn’t wait before I started to stagger through the trees.  I drew in ragged breaths as I tried to get the oxygen to return to my brain.  I could only focus on running away from my father.  I heard my steps crunch beneath me.  I heard his shouts growing further away.  But he didn’t follow me.</p><p>And I knew right there that I had a choice: I could stay and live with these people pretending to be a happy family in the house of my victor sister, or I could go to the Hunger Games.</p><p>I was the logical one in the family.  I knew I could die.  But at that point, I didn’t care.  Because if I died, at least I wouldn’t be alone.</p><p> </p><p>Things returned to normal around the house, but there was a quiet simmer between myself and my parents.  Europa didn’t get it at first, and Avalon was completely oblivious, but the two of them both knew that there was <em>something</em> amiss.  No one talked about it.  It didn’t exist.  But I submitted my name and application for volunteering and I spent as much time as I possibly could out of doors and away from the house.  The days passed, and I found myself sleeping outside where I could at least watch the bright stars overhead and feel the comforting glow of the moon.  I didn’t have to deal with ghosts or unquenched anger.  It was just myself and my memories.</p><p>I had happy memories, too.  The sort of memories that you cling to when you remind yourself that your family isn’t all that bad and you try to reassure yourself that all families have these difficult times.  I remember when we went camping once.  It was all part of the preparation for the arena, but the entire family went and they made it less about the Hunger Games and more about, well, fun.  I remember that Mom used to volunteer in the classroom in our schools and Dad used to take us to the park to play soccer with our friends.  They took us to the movies and to restaurants and all sorts of places without even once mentioning the Hunger Games.</p><p>But the longer I stayed away from them, the more I realized that the sorts of things that happened in my family weren’t normal.  My peers who also trained for the Hunger Games often were pushed to extremes, but running ten miles for dropping a sword seemed normal compared to being deprived of oxygen for trying to remember your dead brother.</p><p>There was no great surprise that I was chosen as volunteer, not when Europa was already a victor.  All I felt was relief that I could finally be free from this place.  It didn’t matter anymore if I didn’t go to university as I planned.  It didn’t matter if my future took a drastically different turn.  I just wanted to get out from the terrible world in which I was living.</p><p>When it came time for the reaping, I wore a high-collared dress that hid the bruises on my throat.  I couldn’t do anything about the broken blood vessels in my eyes, but at least they were less prominent than they were before.  Ultimately people thought that I was crying, which was completely ridiculous because I was actively volunteering.  Anyway, after the first day in the Capitol in which they stripped me raw and built me back up again, they somehow managed to remove the bruises and heal the broken vessels so I looked fresh and new again.</p><p>Europa and I pretended that everything was normal that week.  She went through the same things with me that she is currently doing for Avalon: everything from grilling me and pouring information into my head, to carefully managing my diet.  She was a much newer mentor—it was only her first year—but she handled the situation with confidence and clarity.  The other victors offered to step in, but Europa only waved them away and told them that if she had a question, she’d come talk to them.</p><p>“I can’t wait til you’re in the arena,” Europa told me one night.  “You’ll be able to experience it for yourself.  Just you see—it’s so crazy different than training.”</p><p>“As long as the arena isn’t something dumb,” I muttered. “Like that one year it was a shopping mall.”</p><p>Europa laughed.  “What do you want in the arena?”</p><p>I thought about it for a moment before remembering days prior when I was lying on my back in the yard, watching the nighttime sky.</p><p>“Stars,” I said.  “Lots and lots of stars.”</p><p>“That should be easy enough,” she said.  “And if you really need to see the stars but you’re stuck indoors—break out.  Do it.  So you can see the stars.”</p><p>I smiled at her.  Yes, I would make sure that I could see the stars.</p><p> </p><p>My brain hurts.  I’ve written so much, and I haven’t even gotten to the Hunger Games themselves.  That will have to wait for a different day because I can’t go on anymore.  So I’ll put this pen down and tuck you away, and tomorrow I will be back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I might get a chapter or two out today, but I'll probably be slow for the next few days.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This morning I met Cassiopeia at 9:00 AM inside the training center, as planned.  She was timely, which was good because I was wondering if I was being dumb by inviting her out to do something today.  She had a tribute, and I wouldn’t blame her if she bailed on me so that she could stress over the kid’s inevitable demise.  However, she arrived by elevator to the lobby and joined me.  The two of us said nothing as I lead the way to the side door.</p><p>If she thought that the aquarium in the Capitol Museum was something, then I knew she would be blown away by the actual aquarium.  Panem Aquarium is a bit of a drive from the training center, but it was easy enough to pass the time watching Cassiopeia take in the city sights as our cab driver expertly navigated the streets.  She would occasionally ask questions aloud for myself or the cabbie to answer, and other times she mumbled little comments to herself, but most of the time she was wide-eyed and quiet.  At long last the car pulled to a stop and we stepped out onto the sidewalk.</p><p>“Wow,” she whispered as she stared up at the great building before us.  <em>Panem Aquarium</em> was written in large letters across the top of the multi-story building.  There was already a line forming to get in but I directed Cassiopeia towards the VIP entrance.</p><p>If one could spend an hour or two in the aquarium of the museum, then it would be very easy to spend the entire day at Panem Aquarium.  Featuring both saltwater and freshwater exhibits, it houses thousands of species of fish, mammals, weird ocean-dwellers, and plants.  The interactive displays capture the attention of young and old alike, and it is absolutely mind-boggling to think that these things are natural creatures, not Capitol-created muttations.  The pride and joy is a five-story-tall tank with whales (yes, whales!) as well as hundreds of fish, a few sharks, and many other things that I can’t identify.  You feel so small when you go and stand up next to this big tank, and you think about how it’s only a fraction of what is in the ocean.</p><p>Cassiopeia and I were waved right inside—no passes needed—and given a brochure each and a great welcome.  They offered us a private tour, but we declined and I explained that we wanted to explore on our own since it was Cassiopeia’s first visit.  Next time, I reassured the man at the door, we would be interested in a private tour.</p><p>“Do you think they mind being in these tiny tanks?” Cassiopeia asked me as we stopped to look at otters splashing through the water.</p><p>“Tiny?  These tanks are massive,” I said.</p><p>She shrugged.  “But nothing like the actual ocean.”</p><p>“They’d be eaten in the ocean,” I reminded her.</p><p>She didn’t have a response to that, and we slowly meandered to the next exhibit.</p><p>As we walked, I felt like I didn’t need to make small talk with her.  We barely had to say anything to each other.  One just followed the other.  If I moved on to another tank, she followed after moments later, and if she wandered away, I would trail behind her.  Sometimes we parted to spend more time at a favorite tank, only to regroup without a word.  It was peaceful.</p><p>I realized how much of my visits to the Capitol were dominated by Europa.  Or even just the District 1 people in general.  We went to the museum when I could wheedle my sister enough that she was convinced it was the right thing to do.  We went to the aquarium because I had casually slipped the brochure in front of her for three days in a row and she had to give in.  Sometimes Isolde would offer to take me around and show me the sights of the city, which I eagerly took her up on.  I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me to go on my own.  And it never would have dawned on me to take another victor—one that wasn’t from District 1—to go explore the city.</p><p>After a few moments watching dolphins flip back and forth, I heard a bit of commotion behind me.  I turned around to see a bunch of little kids swarming Cassiopeia.</p><p>“. . . And then I just loved it when, you did that thing, you know that thing?  And then you stabbed her in the face, and . . . .”</p><p>Cassiopeia’s dark eyes were large and glistening.  She tried to step back from the kids, but they didn’t take the hint.  Instead they only crept in closer, eager to share their stories with their favorite victor.  They had no concept of body language, and even if they did, they might not realize that Cassiopeia didn’t want to talk to them because her experiences within the arena were vastly different than what they watched on television.</p><p>“Hey guys,” I smiled to the kids as I walked over.  “Cassiopeia and I have to go.  But we’ll sign your brochures for you before we do.”</p><p>The kids all clamored closer, eagerly thrusting the booklets in our face.  I kept a pen in my pocket specifically for this occasion, and I carefully signed each brochure before passing the pen to Cassiopeia.  She took it with shaking hands and scrawled her signature right underneath mine.  The kids barely waited for her to finish each one before tearing it out of her grasp.</p><p>“Terrible little creatures,” I mumbled as they scrambled away.  “Most of the time they’re so much better mannered.”</p><p>Cassiopeia cleared her throat but didn’t say anything.  She was holding back tears.</p><p>“C’mon, there’s a quiet place over here,” I said, leading her out of the room and down a hallway.  At the end there was a small VIP lounge that was kept out of the way from the rest of the guests.  It was the sort of place that was meant to be visible to all to entice people to pay extra for VIP access, but there wasn’t really anything special about it besides that they would bring menus to you rather than you having to go to the cafeteria and order from a machine.</p><p>We sat down on a bench.  The cushion exhaled loudly under our weight.</p><p>I ordered drinks for the two of us when the avox appeared before us, and as we waited for them, I watched a family with two small children play with a pair of stuffed animals from the aquarium store.  The parents were trying to read the tags on the animals’ ears, but the kids were too busy making them reenact their favorite stories.</p><p>Once upon a time, I wanted children.  It was part of the plan.  I would get married and have kids, and Augustus would get married and have kids, and we would live next door to each other.  The kids could play with their cousins, and no one would ever have to worry about training for the Hunger Games, at least not more than what was expected of the average kid.  Augustus had once confided in me that the prospect of having kids scared him because he wasn’t sure that he knew how to be a good dad, but I assured him that we’d probably figure it all out once we were adults and could make our own decisions.  We’d come up with activities we’d do with our kids since they wouldn’t have to be forced to train all the time, so we’d have to do something to fill in all that spare time.  Augustus would have <em>loved</em> the Capitol.  All the museums and activities.  We could have spent so much time here together.  If he were still alive, I could have applied for a travel pass for him.  The Capitol would have allowed it in a heartbeat.</p><p>But now as I watched those kids and their parents, I realized that I would never be a mother myself.  Not if going to the Hunger Games was going to be part of the family legacy.  Not if any children would one day be sent to the arena.  But still, a small part of me said, if I raised them in a way that they didn’t think they had to volunteer. . . .</p><p>I pushed aside the thoughts as the avox appeared with our drinks.</p><p>“Thank you,” I told her as I removed the drinks off the tray and handed one to Cassiopeia.  The avox bowed and hurried away.</p><p>“How many do you think there are?  Avoxes, I mean,” Cassiopeia asked.</p><p>I hadn’t bothered to think about it.  A lot?  “The Capitol is a big place.  Need a lot of people to keep it running,” I said.</p><p>“And they’re all traitors?  Why would so many people—You know what?  Nevermind.  I didn’t ask anything,” she quickly backpedaled.</p><p>I glanced over at her.  She was looking down into her drink, stirring the bubbles with the narrow straw.</p><p>“There’s some questions we don’t ask,” I found myself saying.  I wondered if I was referring to the avox comment or to about my own issues which seem to always be prodding the back of my mind lately.</p><p>She looked up at me.  “What does that mean?  What other questions?”</p><p>I shrugged.  “You know when the kid next door has bruises on her neck and you don’t ask any questions because it’ll only lead to trouble?” I offered.</p><p>Because nobody asked.</p><p>Cassiopeia shook her head.  “Um, no.  That’s when you call child services.  District 1 has child services, right?”</p><p>“Of course we do,” I grunted.  “But sometimes that makes more trouble.”</p><p>She shifted uneasily in her seat and set the drink down on the coffee table in front of us.  “That’s how it goes?  People outright ignore child abuse?”</p><p>Shoot.  This was a dangerous topic.  First avoxes, now this.  Of course even in the Capitol, child abuse was forbidden, but these remarks were coming from a victor and the discussion could get very sticky when you tried to figure out whether the Hunger Games counted as child abuse.  It does, of course, but you can’t ever say that here because ultimately district residents are classified as less than human—less than animals, even—and child abuse laws don’t apply to the Hunger Games.</p><p>I stood up.  “I would like to check out the gazillion-ton tank of water,” I said.</p><p>The frown on Cassiopeia’s face immediately turned to curiosity.  But then she said, “Don’t think I didn’t notice that this conversation isn’t over.”</p><p>“The conversation isn’t supposed to be happening,” I said evenly, meeting her gaze.  “And that is an example of a question—a topic—we don’t ask.”</p><p>I walked away then.  Behind me, Cassiopeia mumbled a bit to herself but she caught up a few moments later.</p><p>“This tank of water . . . is it real or were you just saying that to shut me up?” she asked.</p><p>“Oh, it’s real.  But it’s not really a gazillion tons.  Not sure how big it is, but it’s big,” I said.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>We watched the whales swim around for nearly an hour.  I didn’t mind in the least.  The Panem Aquarium is one of the best places to go in the Capitol, and like in the Capitol Museum, people get so distracted by the things around them that they oftentimes overlook victors enjoying themselves.</p><p>The two of us sat on a wide carpeted bench that gave us front-row views of the tank.  The glass was curved up over our heads so that the animals could swim above us, giving us views of their gleaming white underbellies.  People came and went, sometimes sitting down on other sections of the bench to take a break or feed their exhausted children, but no one paid us much attention.</p><p>“You were a mentor last year, right?” Cassiopeia asked me.</p><p>“Yep,” I said.  It wasn’t a great experience, but at least I could say that I did it.  My tribute made it to the final four, but was eventually killed in the finale.  People told me that I would be devastated but the weird thing is that I wasn’t.  It wasn’t that I am cold and heartless, it’s just that I knew it’s how the Hunger Games went.  I was sad, I cried, I wanted my tribute to be alive, but ultimately what was done was done.</p><p>“I think I stabbed your tribute in the neck,” she said.</p><p>“Yeah, you did,” I said.  “Good shot, too.”</p><p>“Thanks,” she replied.  She heaved a sigh.  Then she suddenly said, “No, I don’t know why you keep insisting on that.”</p><p>I turned from the tank and stared at her.  Her features were illuminated by the blue glow.  When she caught me staring, she shied back.  “Shit.  What?”</p><p>“What are you talking about?” I asked.</p><p>“Oh.  Did I say that out loud?  Nevermind.  Ignore me,” she rushed out.  Then she turned away from me and stared at the far corner of the tank so that I couldn’t read her expression.</p><p>Alright, weird.  But victors have their quirks.  She just happens to talk to herself sometimes.  It really could be worse.  I think I’d rather talk to myself than have a weird blank in my mind from when I was in the arena.</p><p>“It’ll be strange to see things from the other perspective,” Cassiopeia said.  “To not be onstage tonight but watch from the audience.”</p><p>“I still haven’t gotten used to it,” I confided in her.  “I still expect them to call me up to give an interview.”</p><p>The interviews I’ve been to since haven’t been like that one tribute interview.  It’s unnerving to be up there in front of everyone, trying to sell yourself in a favorable light.  It’s like being a slab of meat in a store while everyone comes by and pokes and prods you to see if you’re worth spending money on.  And in the end you’ll just get cooked and cut up.  Even the interview after the Hunger Games wasn’t this bad.  I think.  I don’t remember much of it.  But subsequent interviews—both at home in District 1 and here in the Capitol—paled in comparison to that one interview as tribute.</p><p>“Your sister has a lot of sponsors,” Cassiopeia continued.  “More than any other tribute.  James was telling me that it’s unusual to have so many sponsors before it all actually begins.”</p><p>“It is.  But the Hunger Games really start as soon as your name is called.  Or in our case, when we volunteer,” I explain.  “It’s just that the arena portion doesn’t begin until a week into the ordeal.  The sooner you can get sponsors, the better.”</p><p>“Well, your sister has an advantage,” she said.</p><p>“Yes, she does.  But also a disadvantage,” I replied.  “Because everyone knows that she has so many sponsors.  Other tributes might not like that.”</p><p>I stopped there at risk of telling her too much information.  It’s a delicate balance between talking with your fellow victors and protecting your tribute.  Honestly, it’s cruel.  By withholding information, I’m putting her tribute at greater risk.  But if I were to be honest about how the game is played and divulge information to her, I would be harming my tribute.  And since “my” tribute is my own flesh and blood, there is no way that I want to ruin her chances despite what Europa may think.</p><p>“I won’t see you much til the Hunger Games end,” Cassiopeia said.</p><p>“Til your tribute dies,” I corrected her.  “Then you’re free to do whatever.”</p><p>“That’s pretty bold of you to assume that my tribute will die,” she retorted.</p><p>I looked at her and rolled my eyes.  She didn’t flinch.  Avalon got an 11 in training.  I don’t even remember what Cassiopeia’s tribute got, so unremarkable was the score.  I know that an 11 doesn’t guarantee Avalon a victory, but it sure as hell puts her above every other non-Career out there.</p><p>“Well, regardless, feel free to hit me up whenever you feel like it,” I said casually.</p><p>She watched a large whale float lazily by.  “You’re way too friendly, it’s scary.”</p><p>“You should meet Isolde, then,” I said.  “Surprised you haven’t.”</p><p>“Are all you District 1 victors like this then?”</p><p>“No.  And if you’re even asking, then you definitely haven’t met my older sister.  It sounds like you need to meet more victors.”</p><p>“I’m okay where I am,” she replied gruffly.</p><p>I grinned.  It was only a matter of time til she met more.  “I could tell you some horror stories about them.”</p><p>“No, thank you.”</p><p>“Fine then.  Don’t ask me later.”  Mostly because I wasn’t going to say anything.</p><p>A sudden beeping interrupted our conversation and Cassiopeia jumped to her feet.  She staggered a few steps forward before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a phone.  “Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly.  Taking a deep breath, she plopped back down on the bench next to me and flicked on the screen.</p><p>After a few seconds, she said, “There’s some sort of issue at the training center.”  Her eyebrows knitted together as she stared at the screen, swiping back and forth but getting no more information.</p><p>“Does it say what?” I demanded.  She shook her head, so I said, “Let’s go.  Keep your voice down and act normal.”</p><p>Cassiopeia nodded and followed after me.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A crowd had gathered at the training center by the time we arrived, though it was still small and comprised mostly of the press.  Cassiopeia and I sneaked in through the side door and headed directly upstairs to the mentor room.</p><p>There we were greeted by a frenzy.  Notably a Career-mentor frenzy.  Nobody noticed us when we came in, and I wasn’t about to get in the middle of whatever argument or craze they had gotten into, snapping back and forth with straining voices.  The other mentors in the room were looking around uneasily.</p><p>Cassiopeia marched up and plopped down in her chair next to James, the District 5 victor of the 136<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games.  “What’s going on?” she asked, eyes flickering over to where my sister and Hammer, Butch and Ferrer of District 2, and Gill and Fjord of District 4 were all bantering back and forth.</p><p>“The District 2 tribute, the female, got food poisoning.  They think that it was intentional,” James told us, his voice low.</p><p>I leaned against the computer desk that ran along the wall so that I could hear him better.</p><p>“Nobody else in their floor ended up getting sick despite the fact that people were eating the same stuff,” he continued.  “The girl had to be taken to the hospital.”</p><p>“What about the interview tonight?” I asked.</p><p>James shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I think that’s one of the things they’re trying to figure out—when they’re not pointing fingers at each other, that is.”</p><p>Great.</p><p>I watched the six of them bicker and try to resolve their issues, only to end in bickering again.  There was a great amount of tension coming from that corner of the room, until finally Ferrer stepped away from them.  “I’m going to the hospital.  You guys say whatever you want,” he said before he left them behind.</p><p>It was only when he left that Europa looked up and saw me.  She hurried over.</p><p>“Ferrer’s tribute was poisoned,” she told me, seemingly to have forgotten that we had left each other on bad terms.  “They say that it was food poisoning, but none of us are convinced.”</p><p>“Who do they think did it?” I asked.</p><p>“Somebody with access to the District 2 food trays,” she said.  “At least that rules out most of the tributes.  Her own district partner is under suspicion.”</p><p>“Why her?  What was the reason for poisoning her?”</p><p>Europa’s expression darkened for a moment.  “We aren’t certain that it was meant to be her,” she said.  “It was meant for one of the tributes, but it could have been any of them.”</p><p>Avalon.  Could someone have wanted to poison her?</p><p>Europa took a deep breath.  “I have to ask you a favor.  For Avalon,” she said.</p><p>“Yes, anything,” I assured her.</p><p>“I need someone to test all of her food before it gets eaten.”</p><p>“Okay, yeah, that makes sense.  There are a ton of avoxes around.”</p><p>“Not an avox,” Europa said.  “You.  I need you to test the food so Avalon doesn’t get sick.”</p><p>Uh, what?  There were like a hundred avoxes in the training center alone.  And even if she didn’t find an avox reliable, then there were probably a couple dozen employees who would do it willingly.</p><p>“Well, I, uhm,” I stammered.</p><p>“You said you’d do anything to help her,” Europa said.</p><p>“Yes, but—”</p><p>“Then do this.  She enters the arena tomorrow, and she needs to be in the best shape possible,” Europa ordered.  “Meet me upstairs in five minutes.  I need to go sort things out.”</p><p>There was no arguing, no protesting.  Europa turned and headed back to the other Career mentors.</p><p>I let out a breath.</p><p>“So, did I just overhear something I wasn’t supposed to?” James asked.</p><p>“Yeah, that was pretty awkward, no offense,” Cassiopeia said.  She looked at me as though I might supply some sort of insight into what just happened.  Unfortunately, I couldn’t give it because I wasn’t certain myself.</p><p>“Welcome to my life,” I muttered.  Turning to them, I added, “If I die, please don’t go to my funeral and tell everyone what a wonderful person I was or that I lit up the room when I entered.”</p><p>The joke—if it was one—failed to find its mark.  Instead the District 5 mentors stared at me blankly.  I pushed myself away from the desk and headed to the door.</p><p> </p><p>In the District 1 apartment, I only had to wait for a minute or two before Europa arrived.  She hurried in with Hammer at her side, the two of them looking like they couldn’t wait to be away from each other.  However, when Europa ordered me to sit down at the table, Hammer only lurked around and watched despite the annoyed glances she gave him.</p><p>“This is what is going to happen,” she told me.  “I am going to order extra-large portions for Avalon.  From each plate, I will take the portion she needs to eat.  The rest you are going to eat.  And you will eat all of it.</p><p>“Hammer,” she looked up at the other mentor.  “How long after eating did Tori get sick?”</p><p>“Twenty minutes,” he said.</p><p>She turned back to me.  “You will eat the entire amount assigned to you, and then we’ll wait thirty minutes before Avalon eats,” she said.</p><p>“Um, alright,” I replied.  “Does she know what happened?  Or is this going to be really weird to her?”</p><p>“Yes, she knows,” Europa said.  “This isn’t something she needs to be in the dark about.”</p><p>“I still don’t understand why you’re making Isabella be the taste tester,” Hammer said.  “There are other people who could do it besides your sister.”</p><p>Europa rolled her eyes.  “Because her digestive tract is similar to Avalon’s,” she replied.</p><p>Super scientific.  I didn’t point out that that wasn’t how poison worked because Europa knew better.</p><p>“So’s mine,” said Hammer.  “I saw what Avalon eats, and I eat pretty much the same thing.  Let me be the one to sample her food.”</p><p>“No way,” snapped Europa.</p><p>“Why?” Hammer demanded.</p><p>“Because I can’t trust you right now,” she snarled, turning around to stare him right in the eye.  “I can’t trust anyone except for Isabella.”</p><p>Well, I’d be flattered if she wasn’t willing to risk my life over this.</p><p>“Poison doesn’t care who you trust or don’t trust,” Hammer said, holding her stony glare.  “Don’t take this out on your sister.”</p><p>“And <em>you</em> don’t tell me what to do,” she said to him.  Then she tore her attention away to the panel where she placed in the food order.  As her fingers plunked out the food choices on the screen, she said aloud, “It’s about time for Avalon’s afternoon meal.  So I’ll order this, you eat it, and by the time everything is sorted out, she’ll be ready to eat.”</p><p>“Where is she now?” I asked.</p><p>“Working with Blue-Anna,” Europa replied distractedly.  She mumbled a few things to herself, hit the ‘enter’ button, and then stepped back.  “Hope you like tuna.”</p><p>“Thanks, up there on my list of least favorite foods, though,” I said.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A warning to anyone with any food issues / eating disorders:  Please be careful with this chapter.  I have included a tl;dr at the end in case you think it's better to skip it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Avalon sat across the table and watched me eat.  She had her face cupped in her hands, her elbows on the table.  Blue-Anna, her stylist, had already been working on her.  The makeup was slathered on her face in a scarily aggressive display of color, and her hair was fixed up on the top of her head with golden ringlets dropped down near her ears.  I don’t know if it was more unnerving because she wasn’t wearing the dress yet or because she was staring me down while I, and I alone, ate.</p><p>They were all looking at me.  Her, Europa, Hammer, Edric.  Everyone wanted to know if I’d drop dead, or at least get a really bad stomach ache and have to go to the hospital.</p><p>A large tuna steak sat on my plate.  With it was a salad, potatoes, a mushed up green vegetable, and a roll.  I also needed to drink 200 mL of some hydrating electrolyte drink and take supplemental vitamins.  I had already forced myself to eat a third of the tuna, but it was hard swallowing it all down without additional water.  Because, Europa had told me, the water might dilute out the poison and therefore would make this entire trial ineffective.  But damn this steak was salty.</p><p>“Since I have a taste-tester, can I also have a whipping boy?” Avalon asked innocently.</p><p>Europa didn’t respond and I only glared at her.  Avalon grinned back.</p><p>“This is what you eat as an afternoon snack?” I asked her.</p><p>“It’s one of my many meals,” she replied casually. </p><p>“I can’t believe you eat this much.  How are you not 500 pounds?”</p><p>“Less talking, more eating,” Europa ordered.  “If you don’t finish within 10 minutes, it’s going to put Avalon behind, and she can’t arrive to the interviews late.”</p><p>I shoved a chunk of tuna in my mouth, but still decided to ask, “You’re going to send her on stage after eating all this?”</p><p>“She can handle it.  As can you.  Eat.”</p><p>The more I ate, the worse I felt.  Not because the food was poisoned but because it was far too much for me to eat in one sitting.  It had been years since I stopped training, and I really couldn’t eat like this anymore.  I wasn’t sure why she insisted that I eat every morsel since the point was for me to just taste eat food to make sure it wasn’t poisoned, but when Europa sets her mind to something, it was going to happen.</p><p>At long last, I finished the meal and pushed the plate aside.</p><p>“Don’t expect me to eat dinner later tonight,” I mumbled.  But I knew there would be no reason to protest because Avalon would have to eat again before the evening ended.</p><p>And then everyone sat around and watched me for the next thirty minutes to see if I would keel over.  I didn’t, or else I wouldn’t be writing this right now.</p><p>“Thirty minutes are up,” Europa said.</p><p>“Great.  I need to use the bathroom.”  I pushed myself away from the table and headed for the hall toilet.</p><p>When I returned, Avalon was happily enjoying her afternoon meal.</p><p>“Any news on the District 2 girl?” I asked as I threw myself down into my chair.</p><p>“She’s recovering.  They expect her to be at the interviews tonight,” Hammer replied.  He didn’t seem so sure about it, but I figured that if she was healthy enough to at least be interviewed then maybe things weren’t that bad.  Obviously I didn’t want Avalon to get sick, but maybe this whole forcing-your-middle-sister-to-eat-too-much-food thing was a bit overkill.</p><p>“You alright?” Hammer asked after Europa whisked away Avalon to finish getting ready for the interview.  Edric was long gone, no doubt with his stylist.</p><p>“Yeah, why?”</p><p>He tapped his fingers against the table.  After a second, he shrugged.  “Just the fact that your sister just forced you to eat twice of what you normally do under the rationale that she’d rather you die than Avalon.”</p><p>Well, when you put it like that. . . .</p><p>“I’m not the one about to enter the arena,” I said.  “If the roles were reversed, she’d have Avalon eat all that for me.”</p><p>“Would she?” Hammer asked.</p><p>I narrowed my eyes at him.  “What is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>He only shrugged again.  “I need to go get ready.  You probably do, too.”</p><p>Yeah, he was right.  I still had to go back to my apartment and freshen up.  So I stood up and pushed in my chair.</p><p>“See you later, Hammer,” I said.</p><p>“See you, Isabella,” he replied. </p><p>On the ride back to my apartment, I had a few moments to wonder if Hammer was trying to stand up for me, or if he just thought the entire situation was ridiculous.  The whole affair was rather embarrassing, and I wished that he really was trying to stick up for me because he thought I needed it, not because it made him cringe.  I understand that Avalon is a first priority, but why wouldn’t Europa just have her eat pre-packaged food if it were that bad?  Or why not eat the food first herself if she were really so devoted a mentor?</p><p>It’s pretty clear that Europa considers me expendable.  Between not inviting me to events to using me as a canary, this isn’t the typical stuff of loving sibling relationships.  I just remind myself that I’m doing this for Avalon, not for Europa.  Once all of this is over, I can return to my victor mansion and pretend that none of them exist.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>tl;dr - Europa has Isabella eat far more food than she is comfortable with to taste test and make sure that it's not poisoned.  Isabella does not die.  Avalon enjoys her dinner.  Hammer briefly checks in with Isabella to make sure that she is okay.  Isabella leaves to get ready for her interview and acknowledges that Europa considers her expendable.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Avalon looked gorgeous.  The outfit Blue-Anna had made for her accentuated her beauty and made her look older and more mature than her fifteen years without being too sexy or alluring.  In the harsh lights overhead, the makeup didn’t look nearly as imposing.  The outfit, the hair, the makeup—it all fell together just right.</p><p>She stood on the stage with confidence, and when she was called up—the first tribute of the night—she glided over to Caligula Klora with elegance.  Since twenty-three others would follow her, she needed to be impressive enough to be remembered well after the curtains closed.  Of course she knew this.  As I had known it when I was in her position.  But I was still nervous that she wouldn’t be able to stand out from the crowd.</p><p>“Good evening, lovely Avalon!” Caligula greeted her.  He took her hand and kissed it gently.  “It’s a pleasure to have you here tonight.”</p><p>Avalon beamed.  “Thank you, Caligula.  It’s an honor to be here.”</p><p>“Now, Avalon, you are in a remarkable position.  You’ve had not one but two sisters go before you, and both of them are victors.” (I was certain that the cameras would show a brief clip of Europa and me sitting together in the audience, so I made a point to sit up straighter and smile at Avalon.)  “What do you have to say about that?”</p><p>My sister smiled at him.  “I’m lucky that I’ve had both Europa and Isabella guiding me through the last few days,” she told him.  “No other tribute is as lucky as I am, that’s for certain.  However, there is also a big drawback to having two sisters who are so talented and courageous.”</p><p>“What’s that?” Caligula asked.</p><p>“Everyone expects me to be just like them,” she replied.  “But I’m not.  I’m my own person, and you will see in the arena that my performance will far exceed what people expect of me.  Not because I am better than either of my sisters but because I am different from them.”</p><p>“I understand that you excel with knives, just like your grandmother, Dawn Hildebrand, victor of the 83<sup>rd</sup> Hunger Games,” Caligula said.  “Many tributes try to keep their specialties secret, but yours is out in the open.  Does it hinder you that everyone knows of your skill?”</p><p>“Not at all,” Avalon said with confidence.  “I’ve worked for years following in my grandma’s footsteps.  I’ve always admired her and wanted to be as talented as she was, so it’s a great honor that people recognize and appreciate the work I put into that dream.”</p><p>“Did you learn directly from her?”</p><p>It was a surprisingly loaded question despite its simplicity.  Training isn’t technically allowed, but it’s overlooked because it gives the Capitolites a better show.  However to admit it openly would result in problems.  But to just “happen” to know how to use a weapon, to spend years in a “sword club,” or those sorts of things was fine as long as it wasn’t obviously training specifically for the Hunger Games.</p><p>“Yes, she took great pride in showing me how to throw knives.  It drove my parents mad!” Avalon laughed.  “The last thing they wanted was their cutlery flying around the dining room.”</p><p>“I hope there wasn’t too much damage!”</p><p>“No, definitely not.  Grandma eventually took me outside so that my parents wouldn’t burst.”</p><p>“And now you’re going to fulfill your grandma’s legacy,” said Caligula.</p><p>“I am.  I want to make history, Caligula,” Avalon stated.  “I want to be the first family to have all three children win the Hunger Games.”</p><p>“We’d like to see that, I’m certain,” he replied.  “How would that work, by the way, with the housing?  Do you all live one-two-three right next door to each other in your mansions?”</p><p>“I wish!” Avalon said.  “When I win, I hope it happens!  I couldn’t imagine living without Europa and Isabella by my side.”</p><p>“And I’m sure they couldn’t imagine living without you, could they?”</p><p>“No.  They love me dearly and have done so much to support me in the past,” Avalon replied.  She smiled out into the audience.  “I can’t wait to join them.”</p><p>It was all so sappy.  So predictable.  But I knew that the audience was just gobbling it up.  Three victors from the same family?  Not just that, but <em>all three</em> of their children!  There wasn’t a single loser in the bunch!  Wow!</p><p>I hated it, but I couldn’t blame Avalon for any of it.  I had done similarly when I was in her position.</p><p>“We are just about out of time, Avalon,” Caligula said.  “Any final words?”</p><p>Avalon grinned.  “There’s more than what meets the eye, Caligula,” she said.  “Remember that.”</p><p>“I will.  Thank you, Avalon Vitner of District 1!”</p><p>The crowd cheered wildly for her.  Avalon beamed at Caligula, and then waved to the audience.  She looked so professional and put-together.  She was perfect.  Like Europa.  Everything about her was flawless.</p><p>I barely paid attention during Edric’s interview.  And then it came time for the girl from District 2.  She teetered up to Caligula and from this close of view, it was clear that she had extra makeup caked onto her face in a thick mask to block the unhealthy sheen.  The poor thing could barely make it through her interview and wavered as though she were going to pass out at any minute.  As soon as it was over, she did not rejoin the others in their seats but quietly slipped off stage where there were two medics waiting for her.</p><p>The rest of the interviews were boring, or at least I found none of them as mesmerizing as my little sister’s.  Some of the kids wore outfits or makeup or hair styles so ugly that they were distracting, and some of them had no public speaking abilities.  Others still were just boring and had nothing interesting to say.  We clapped politely for them, but I was relieved when it was all over so that we could go back to the training center.</p><p>“She did great,” Europa hissed with excitement after the anthem played and everyone started to move away from their seats.</p><p>“Did you doubt her?” I asked with a tease.  Of course she didn’t.</p><p>“Never once,” she replied.  “I bet the sponsors are pouring in.”</p><p>“Well since the District 2 girl is pretty much out of it,” I said under my breath.</p><p>Europa’s hand latched to my wrist and she twisted.  Alright, I got it.  Now wasn’t the time to talk about it.  We followed the crowd and met up with Avalon backstage where we congratulated her and gave her well-deserved hugs.</p><p>“My three minutes of fame!” Avalon said.  “It’s finally over!”</p><p>“You will have so much more than that, don’t worry,” Europa said.  I really hoped she was right.  She put one arm around Avalon and the other around me, and I tried to pretend that she wasn’t just doing it for the cameras and that she really felt like she wanted me near her.  The three of us walked out towards the waiting car and climbed inside.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning for more food issues / eating disorder stuff.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Back in the training center dining room, Europa set down a plate of food in front of me.  My stomach lurched.</p><p>“Why do I have to eat this much?” I asked.  “Wouldn’t just a taste of each thing be enough?”</p><p>“Depends on the potency of the poison,” Europa replied.  She sat down at the table opposite me.  Avalon was off in the bathroom taking a shower and scrubbing off all the makeup.</p><p>Before I could begin eating, however, Hammer and Edric arrived.  Isolde was right behind them.</p><p>“Go take a shower and get that crap off your face,” Hammer said to Edric, clapping him on the shoulder.  Edric rolled his eyes but didn’t have to be prompted again.</p><p>Isolde sat down next to me.  “I hear there’s been a bit of a poison scare,” she said as she watched me take a bite of food.</p><p>Hammer joined us then, but he didn’t sit down.  Instead he reached over and took the plate from me, sliding it right out from underneath my fork.</p><p>“Nope, that’s not happening again,” he said.</p><p>Europa jumped to her feet.  “Damnit, Hammer, you are not allowed to mess this up,” she snapped.  She started to move towards him, but he only danced away, keeping the table—and Isolde and me—between himself and Europa.</p><p>“You need to chill, Europa,” Hammer said.  “You’re going nuts.  Like, I get that you’re worried about Avalon, but you can’t take it out on Isabella.”</p><p>“I’m not taking anything out in Isabella,” Europa hissed.  She didn’t make a move for the plate, but she never took her eyes off it, either.  “She <em>wants</em> to help Avalon, and this is how it’s going to happen.”</p><p>“Hammer’s right,” Isolde said.  Then she turned to him, took the plate, and set it down on the table.  “And I’m hungry, so I’m going to do you a favor.”</p><p>Europa tried to protest, but Isolde started to eat.</p><p>There were no words to express my thanks to my fellow victors.  I did want to help Avalon, but Europa’s methods made no sense at all.  And anyway, I was still quite full from the ridiculous amount of food I’d eaten earlier.</p><p>“You need to figure out some way to relax, Europa,” Isolde said as she shoved food into her mouth like she were afraid Europa would just steal the plate back.  Europa made no move as she glowered at the older victor.  “Acting like this is only going to hurt your relationship with Isabella.”</p><p>“Our relationship is just fine,” Europa snapped.  “But I won’t have any relationship at all with Avalon if you bastards insist on interfering.”</p><p>“How the hell is not making Isabella eat two tons of food interfering?” asked Hammer as he plopped down into a chair at the head of the table.  He reached over and grabbed a roll off of the plate.</p><p>“We need somebody who is approximately the same size with approximately the same constitution to eat the same quantity of food as Avalon, otherwise the poison might go undetected,” Europa said.</p><p>“See, this is what we’re saying.”  Hammer didn’t bother to swallow the bread before talking.  “That doesn’t make sense.  Tori might have been poisoned, but that doesn’t mean that Avalon would be.  If anything, the Capitol has stepped up security.”</p><p>“They can’t have their tributes dying before the Hunger Games begin,” Isolde added between spoonfuls of rice and stew.</p><p>“You think that you’re thinking logically, but you’re not, Europa,” Hammer said.</p><p>Europa does not like being told what to do.  She doesn’t like to be told that she was wrong.  It blew my mind to sit there and watch the other two victors talk to her like this without her fighting back.  If I had tried it—even well before her Hunger Games—she would have told me off before I could get more than a couple of words out of my mouth.  But here she sat, arms crossed over her chest, glaring between Hammer and Isolde.</p><p>“Avalon is going to be just fine.  She can take care of herself,” Isolde reassured her.  “Your advice to her is solid, but the paranoia is getting the better of you.  And then it’s just going to drive you insane.”</p><p>Finally Europa pushed her chair away from the table and stood up.  “You’re right.  I’m going to go take a shower,” she muttered, but of course things were far from being ‘right.’  This was her doing what she could to bow out gracefully because she knew that Hammer and Isolde were right.  But that didn’t mean that she agreed with them.  Europa walked out of the dining room and vanished into the hallway.</p><p>“Do you want any of this?” Isolde asked with a motion to her plate when Europa was gone.</p><p>I shook my head.  “No thanks.  I’m still full from the afternoon meal.”</p><p>“Alright,” she replied as she continued eating.  I listened to her and Hammer discuss a few things, none of them were of any importance to me, nor did they interest me.  I was thankful that they didn’t sit there and give me a lecture about how I need to stand up for myself; instead they just let it go.</p><p>“Okay, the half hour starts now,” Hammer said as soon as Isolde finished up the meal.  Then, more gently, “Avalon will be fine.  The food isn’t poisoned, I’m sure of it, and she’ll be entering the arena as strong as ever.”</p><p>I nodded. “Yes, of course.”</p><p>“And Isabella?” Isolde said as she stood up.  “You take care of yourself, okay?  The Hunger Games can be hard to watch for any of us when we have someone we care about involved, but I’m sure that watching your sister, no matter how capable she may be, is going to be nerve-wracking.  Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not being supportive just because you’re scared for her.”</p><p>I blinked.  What Isolde said was exactly what I needed to hear, even if I hadn’t realized it.  But I was left without words.  There was no way I could express my concerns without looking like a traitor, even if I knew within my heart that I was anything but.  To have someone understand that was a relief.  Finally I managed a small nod.</p><p>“If you need anything, come over to my place,” she said.</p><p>Hammer gave me a pat on the shoulder and the two of them left.</p><p>How was it that Isolde and Hammer, two people who I only knew because of the Hunger Games, were far more supportive than my own sister?  It made me wonder what Europa was like when I was in the arena.  Did she lose that aura of calm control she has, or was she completely cold throughout?  I never asked her what she went through when I was in the arena because I never really thought about it.  I always thought that the traumatic part was for the tribute, not the mentor.  Which was stupid because I had to watch Europa in the arena even before I went, so I knew first-hand how difficult it could be to watch someone you love struggle through that hell.</p><p>I was only alone for a few minutes before I heard footsteps down the hallway and Avalon appeared within view.  She nodded towards the empty plate.</p><p>“Going to puke again?” she asked.</p><p>“No.  Isolde ate it,” I said.</p><p>Avalon headed over to the table and sat in the seat across from me where Europa had been moments before.  Her mouth opened like she was about to say something but nothing came out.  I contemplated asking her about the interview, but it all seemed too useless.  Once the interview was done, it was best not to think about it, good or bad.  If you did really well, you could easily ride that high and think you’re invincible.  If you did poorly, then you might lose your focus.  Ultimately it wasn’t going to change the way you handled the things you would do in the arena, so it was best not to linger.</p><p>Finally Avalon cleared her throat.  “Isabella, I want to talk to you.”</p><p>“Yes, of course,” I said to Avalon, sitting up slightly straighter.</p><p>She looked at me with a quiet sadness in her eyes, and I realized that it was the same expression she had used on me last night when she had been trying to convey a message I couldn’t follow.</p><p>Her finger played with the tines of the fork at her place setting as she gathered together her words.</p><p>“I didn’t want to volunteer,” she said at last.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I drew in a deep, sharp breath.</p><p>Avalon continued, “I knew that I’d have to volunteer eventually, but I was going to do like you said—wait until I was a little older.  But . . . Mom and Dad told me that I had to.  They said that this was my year.”</p><p>“But this year was—”</p><p>“Augustus’ year?” she finished.  “Yeah, I know.  I think this was to put the final nail in the coffin, so to speak.  If I volunteered this year, then they could forever erase Augustus from all of history.”</p><p>“There would be no need to ever think about him again,” I said.  “No need to wonder about that giant gap between our victories.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Avalon nodded.  She took a shaky breath.  “Dad hit me when I told him that I didn’t want to go this year.  He thought that I was trying to respect Augustus, I think.  But I really didn’t want to go.”</p><p>“Avalon, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t know—”</p><p>She shrugged, cutting me off.  But she didn’t speak right away.  When she did, she couldn’t even look at me.  “I had always wondered where your bruises came from, before you volunteered, I mean.  I thought you got them training.  I knew that Dad was mad for some reason, but I assumed it was because you failed some obstacle course or something.  I didn’t know what he was capable of.”</p><p>“Did you tell Europa?” I asked.</p><p>“No,” she said.  “I don’t know what they said—or did—to her, but she’s been really weird the last few weeks.  That’s why she’s been so mean to you.  I’m sorry that you had to eat all that food, by the way.”</p><p>“It wasn’t that bad,” I said.</p><p>“Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I don’t think that you have no faith in me,” she said.  “You probably have more faith in me than I do, if we’re going to be honest.”</p><p>“Avalon, you’re more than capable of being victor.”</p><p>“I know, I know.  That’s what everyone says.  But that doesn’t mean that it’ll happen.  I mean, it almost didn’t turn out that way for you, right?” she said.</p><p>I swallowed.  “Well, I guess, but it did.  And Europa, crazy as she is right now, is still a good mentor.”</p><p>“There are a lot of people who want me to win, but there are many who will do everything they can to make sure I don’t,” Avalon replied.  “I know Europa thinks that the poisoned food could have been meant for me, but I don’t think it was.  There’s too much money on me now to have someone poison me before the Hunger Games start.  I think it was a warning, though.”</p><p>“A warning that you aren’t protected and that you may not win?”</p><p>“Yeah, something to that effect.  But, in all honesty, I don’t want to go in there <em>knowing</em> that I will win, you know?” She spun the fork around with her fingers idly as she talked.  “If I’m going to win, I want to be a victor out of my own right, no offense.”</p><p>“No offense?” I asked.</p><p>“I just mean that I want to work as hard as everyone else to hold the title, that’s all.  Not to have people letting me win because I’m the third in line.”</p><p>I didn’t know how that led to a ‘no offense,’ but I could think of nothing to ask about it that wouldn’t draw attention to the fact that there is a huge gap in my memory.  Did someone let me win because of my lineage?  That would be . . . disgusting.  To know that other kids died not because I was strong enough to face them but because the system was completely rigged.  I could understand how that would bother Avalon, especially now with two sisters and a grandma who came before her.</p><p>“You’ve trained harder than most Careers,” I pointed out.  “Not everyone goes through the crazy shit we did day-in and day-out for so many years.  Most of the Careers I knew growing up ran a few miles each day, lifted weights, and took boxing classes and some weaponry classes.  They didn’t go on days of short rations or run until they were vomiting or have to hang by their arms from a tree branch until their hands grew so sweaty that they were forced to let go and fall ten feet to the ground.”</p><p>“I know.  I have that as a distinct advantage.  And the speech lessons helped last night, too,” she said.  “But I really don’t know how to be normal around any of these other people.  It’s hard not to look at them and think, ‘<em>That’s</em> what you call a push up?’  And I’m terrible at talking with them.  You and Europa have so much more charisma than I do.”</p><p>“Are you getting along fine with them?” I asked.</p><p>“Hell if I know.  I think I’m doing okay and then I realize that they aren’t including me in something,” she sighed.  “Which I guess isn’t the end of the world because at least I know that I can’t trust any of them.”</p><p>“You’ll have to break away from them early.”</p><p>“That’s what Europa said, too.  I imagine that they’ll probably use me to help them mow everyone down and then gang up against me.”  Avalon did not look nearly as worried about this as one might suspect a person in her position would be.  “They’re probably afraid that I’ll be too hard for them to face in one-on-one combat, so I’ll likely need to fight all of them at once if I don’t break away soon enough.”</p><p>Ouch.</p><p>This conversation wasn’t helping my nerves, but I also couldn’t just ditch.  Avalon needed someone to talk to—she needed <em>me</em> to talk to—and I wasn’t going to deny her that.  What if she didn’t come back?  There was no way I’d forgive myself if I told her I couldn’t handle this sort of discussion.  And besides, I was a victor.  I <em>should</em> be able to handle this.</p><p>From down the hallway, I heard a door open.  Europa, maybe.  Or Edric.</p><p>Avalon sat up straighter.  “I just want to say that I don’t want you to ever forget Augustus,” she whispered, meeting my gaze.  “And if I die, please don’t forget me, either.”</p><p>Europa appeared in the dining room before I had a chance to reply.  She sat down in the chair next to Avalon, and I was forced to wipe the expression from my face before she could question it.</p><p>“That was fast,” I said.  “Avalon hasn’t even had a chance to eat dinner.”</p><p>“We still have some things to go over before she goes to bed tonight, and I didn’t want to waste too much time showering,” Europa replied matter-of-factly.  And then she stared at me for a few long seconds.</p><p>“You’re telling me to leave?” I asked.</p><p>“I’m asking you to give us some time and not distract Avalon,” she said.</p><p>“Yeah, sure.”  I stood up, tucked in my chair, and came around the table.</p><p>Avalon threw herself into my arms and buried her face in my shoulder.</p><p>“Good luck,” I murmured into her thick blond hair.</p><p>“I don’t need it,” she said gruffly, all emotion that she held moments before completely vanished.  “But thank you.”</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I probably should still be asleep, but sleep wasn’t coming easily to me anyhow and I was more awake than not.  The 146<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games will begin in a few hours, the tributes are currently being whisked away to their arena, and I can do nothing but focus on whether I will see my sister alive.  Soon I’ll have to get ready for the opening party, a big bash to celebrate the beginning of the Hunger Games.  We will watch the footage live as the tributes enter the arena.  I wish I could watch from the comfort of my own home.</p><p>I promised to write more about my own Hunger Games, though at present I find it pales in comparison to what is happening now.  How can I convey the horror I went through then when I’m so distracted by what is happening in the present?</p><p>I remember preparing to board the hovercraft that would take us to our arena.  Prep Week is both exciting and exhausting, and despite the chaos that unfolds, you’re expected to perform perfectly the moment you’re raised up around the Cornucopia.</p><p> </p><p>Europa had given me a pep talk before I was taken away the morning of the first day.  About how I was going to win because I had the skills, the training, and the brain to pull it off.  About how the other tributes in the arena didn’t have the same preparation that I did.  About how I was a Vitner and therefore I was going to emerge victorious.  I wanted to believe her so badly, and yet at the same time, I was overwhelmed by fear and terror so immense that I didn’t think it possible.</p><p>I, Isabella Vitner of District 1, was scared.  I was afraid of that which I was supposed to embrace.  The lifestyle I had lived had led to this point.  It was a culmination of skills and perseverance.  And yet I trembled so hard that I couldn’t even hold a glass of water in my hands without it sloshing over the side onto my fingers.  What sort of Career was I?</p><p>In the training center, I had performed beautifully.  There was no doubt that I was Europa Vitner’s little sister.  Although our weapon choices differed, I demonstrated my ability to kill—albeit on mannequins and holograms only—just as smoothly as my older sibling.  The other Careers welcomed me with open arms into their pack, even though I had a bit of an advantage in that people had their eyes on me due to my family’s legacy and thus had many sponsors.  But that didn’t make me feel better about my chances.  If anything, it only made me more concerned.</p><p>Now I think of Avalon, who is strapped into a hovercraft seat with only her stylist, Blue-Anna, as a companion.  Europa is forbidden from accompanying her from this point onward because now she must return to the mentor room to begin her duties.  I remember the loneliness of that hovercraft ride.  My stylist, Ellen, provided no comfort despite her attempts.  I had shut myself off to her as the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on my chest.  When we disembarked from the hovercraft, I found myself in a cold cement chamber where I stripped off my clothes and donned the common uniform all of us tributes would be wearing.</p><p>My uniform was sturdy.  Yes, that was it.  If I close my eyes, I can feel the rough texture underneath my fingers even now.  With a little more effort, I recall that we had denim pants, cotton undershirt, and a flannel overshirt.  But the pants were looser and more flexible than your standard jeans despite looking and feeling like your average pair of denim.  There wasn’t a lot of shape to them, and the extra legroom allowed us to move more freely.  On our feet, we had thick socks and a pair of boots.  Sturdy, with good grip.  “To handle muddy areas,” Ellen noted as she leaned over and tied the laces because my fingers shook too hard to be of use.  There was also a hat—a simple baseball-style hat—and a bandana.  For the life of me, I can’t remember the colors of things.  What color was my shirt?  My hat?  My bandana?</p><p>“There’s no jacket, so it probably won’t be freezing, though the flannel shirt means that it may be a little chilly,” Ellen said as she flattened out the flannel collar by my throat.  “Tough pants, good boots—expect mud, no doubt.  Maybe some water.  Don’t assume that your clothes are waterproof, though.”</p><p>I nodded as she spoke, taking it all in to keep my mind off of what was to come in the immediate future.</p><p>“Sun, too.  I imagine that’s why they gave you the bandana.”  Ellen stepped away and surveyed my outfit.  “Get some gloves with a good grip.  You don’t want to lose your sword because your hand was too mucky.”</p><p>The countdown began.  I could barely hear it over the beating of my own heart, but Ellen led me over to the launch pod and helped me step inside.</p><p>“I won’t waste your time telling you good luck because I know you don’t need it,” she said at last.  “But I wish you a clear head and quick decisions.”</p><p>“Thank you,” I managed.  I smiled at her.</p><p>The countdown ended, and a plexiglass tube descended around me.  The pedestal beneath my feet began to move, and slowly I was lifted upwards, my eyes still fixed on Ellen.</p><p>It’s a long ride up to the arena, even though it doesn’t seem like that when you watch it on television.  I don’t know how long—fifteen, thirty seconds—but I was trying to steady my breathing and go over the things Europa had advised over the past week.  How to handle the other Careers, which tributes to aim for once I have my hand on a sword, how many supplies I should carry when I leave the Cornucopia for any reason even if I think I will return.  We had gone over so many scenarios for what the arena might be, and for each one, we had come up with a game plan.</p><p>The pedestal began to slow, and I could see the first glimpse of bright morning sunlight above my head.  And . . . that’s it.  That’s where my memory stops.  It’s like that strip of white light above me obliterated any memory I could possibly have.  Although I sit here and strain to remember what happened after that, there is nothing that comes forth in my mind.</p><p>It scares me that I can’t remember.  It makes me wonder what sort of person I really am if I can’t remember what happened to me.  Is this a physical or a psychological block?  Am I brain damaged or traumatized?</p><p>I can’t think about it now.  It’s time for me to go get ready for the party, and my thoughts must only be with Avalon right now.</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As much as I’m indifferent about most interviews and such, I cannot stand the Bloodbath party.  It makes my stomach lurch every year, and this year was worst of all because of Avalon.  The festivity is a harsh reminder that as friendly as I am with many Capitol citizens, we are an entirely different breed of people.  I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that there was good money on Avalon right now or the fact that the Capitolites wanted her to make the first kill.  A fifteen-year-old kid.  They were betting on how fast she was going to turn into a murderer.</p><p>I arrived at the mansion with the rest of the District 1 cohort, each one of us carefully groomed and dressed to best represent our district.  All victors are under careful observation, but District 1, being the place where many items of fashion and culture are created, is always more closely scrutinized.  A “bad” outfit or a spill stain could put you right into a gossip blog you don’t want to be in, and it’s all downhill from there.</p><p>People poured out of the house and into the front lawn.  Once we pushed passed the throngs of guests to get inside, the pulsating music and bright lights overwhelmed me and made me forget about all of the bodies bumping into me or pressing against my own.  Conversations required one to shout to be heard unless you were lucky enough to be inches away from the person with whom you wanted to speak.  We threaded through the crowd, though our numbers dwindled as people were pulled away to greet old friends, acquaintances, and the sorts of people you really don’t want to deal with but pretend that you like.  At long last, it was just Europa, Hammer, and I.  We squeezed into one loveseat, with me wedged in between the two of them on Hammer’s insistence that we could all fit.  A massive television hung on the wall in front of us, framed on all sides with tiny glimmering diamonds.</p><p>Europa beckoned an avox over and each of us took a drink off of her tray.  I glanced at the frothy beverage with layers of orange-red-yellow slowly mixing together.  There was alcohol in there, no doubt, but how much I didn’t know.  Moderation was key, unless you were the sort of person who preferred to disappear into the alcohol to pretend that the rest of the world didn’t exist.  There were many victors among us who took this route.  I sipped on my drink as we chattered about the upcoming bloodbath.  Nothing that we said was of any importance, so I won’t bother writing it here.  It was merely a way to pass the time and make it look like we were engaged with what was happening around us.  Sometimes people would come by and talk with us, and we would say the things they wanted to hear.  Other times we just kept to ourselves, nervous glances thrown at the television as we watched the clock count down.</p><p>Then the cheering began, and people started to shout things such as “Places! Places!” and “It’s almost time!”  People bustled around, large outfits and tall hair styles making maneuvering in this packed space challenging.  Someone tried to fit into the loveseat with us, but fortunately realized that it wasn’t going to happen before we had to either give in and sit on each other’s laps or tell the person to get lost.</p><p>“Avalon is going to be fine,” Hammer said as he leaned in to me.  “Take a deep breath and put your faith in your sister’s abilities.”</p><p>I nodded slightly.  I appreciated his words, but I wasn’t certain how true that would be.  Still, Avalon was more than capable, I reminded myself.  She got an 11.  She had trained since she could walk.  And she was damned good at knives.</p><p>“Ladies and gentlemen, let the 146<sup>th</sup> Annual Hunger Games begin!” came the voice of Janice Lovely, the Hunger Games announcer.</p><p>My throat tightened as the camera panned into the arena, a great plain surrounded on three sides by a dry pine forest.  There was little vegetation at the bases of the trees to hide anyone running away from the Bloodbath, so anyone who was going to leave had better do so as soon as humanly possible or they would be pursued without a chance of escape.  Short, scrubby bushes dotted the plain; one could hide momentarily behind these, but you’d have no chance if someone were to get close because you’d be seen right away.</p><p>The tops of the tributes heads became visible as they were raised up into the arena.  My breath vanished as I watched Avalon—strong, proud, Avalon—go up and up and up until the pedestal clicked into place beneath her feet.  All of the tributes wore khaki pants; a light-weight long-sleeved green shirt; and brown boots.  They each had a wide-brimmed hat to keep the sun off their faces.  Avalon’s hair was pulled back into two blond braids so that it wouldn’t get into her face.  Other tributes were not so prepared, and some tucked their hair behind their ears furiously in an attempt to get it out of their way.  Not Avalon.  She looked so calm, so strong, so in charge and put together.</p><p>The tributes took their time observing the arena around them.  One boy had already positioned himself to run the opposite direction, away from the Cornucopia.  He would leave without supplies, but at least he would be able to leave and get away before the fighting at the bloodbath turned to a hunt for tributes.  Most of the tributes trembled as they listened for the gong that would release them from their pedestals.</p><p>“Breathe, Isabella,” Hammer whispered.</p><p>I did as he told me.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.  The camera panned around so that we could have a close-up of everybody’s faces.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.  The clock counted down.  Seconds left.  Three.  Two.  In. Out.  One.</p><p>The gong sounded, and immediately the tributes plunged into the fray.  Avalon charged towards the Cornucopia, her boots barely touching the ground as she ran.  She made it look so easy, like she was flying with invisible wings.  She reached the Cornucopia at the same time as the District 2 male, and the two of them grabbed their weapons.  The Gamemakers had made it easy for them—for any of the Careers—to reach their chosen weaponry.</p><p>It only took a moment for Avalon to turn around and send the first knife flying into the heart of the District 6 male who was booking it towards the supplies.  He dropped to the ground, twitched for a moment, and then went still.  She sent another knife into the leg of the District 3 female, and then, moments later as the girl curled up in pain, a follow-up into her throat.  Two tributes down within the first seconds of the Hunger Games.</p><p>But she was not alone.  The other Careers were grabbing up weapons and taking charge of the Cornucopia.  The District 2 male killed the District 6 female with a single spear.  Edric killed the District 10 female.  The District 4 female killed the District 8 male.  The deaths piled up.  Bodies lay strewn across the field.  The District 12 tributes tried to sneak from behind and grab some supplies but were immediately killed by Avalon and the District 4 male.  All in all, it went like this:</p><p>District 6 male killed by Avalon at 00:01:03<br/>District 3 female killed by Avalon at 00:01:15<br/>District 6 female killed by District 2 male at 00:01:30<br/>District 10 female killed by Edric at 00:01:32<br/>District 8 male killed by District 4 female at 00:02:04<br/>District 12 male killed by Avalon at 00:03:10<br/>District 12 female killed by District 4 male at 00:03:42<br/>District 7 male killed by District 2 male at 00:04:25</p><p>Eight deaths in the first five minutes.  The bloodbath never went on very long, but sometimes it was over in the blink of an eye and other times it stretched on for minutes.  The longest I’ve seen was nearly an hour, but that happens so rarely.</p><p>There were more who were wounded.  Narrow escapes lead to lacerations, punctures, sprained ankles, crushed limbs.  The final tributes who hobbled away with a bag of supplies were allowed to leave because the Careers didn’t pursue them, otherwise they’d be mowed down in a heartbeat.  As a Career, you want to make sure that you give the Capitol a good show.  Killing everyone in the first ten minutes won’t be a good show.  Nobody wants a short Hunger Games.</p><p>Avalon was assessing her supplies now.  She had a pack of knives attached to her thigh, and another knife strapped to her chest.  No doubt there were more on her that we couldn’t see.  She was already moving over to the supplies, turning over boxes and trying to figure out what they had.</p><p>I barely noticed the District 2 female.  She had tottered over to the Cornucopia after the others, but was forced to sit on a carton of supplies while the others took over the killing.  He face was an unhealthy pale.  Sweat beaded on her skin and ran down her temples despite the lack of exertion.  The District 2 male headed over to her.  He held a bow in his hands, still nocked with the arrow he was going to send after a retreating tribute before he decided otherwise.</p><p>“Hey,” he said to the girl.</p><p>The District 2 girl looked up at her district partner.  Dark circles underneath her eyes gave her a hollow look.  She clutched at her stomach and winced.  But she never looked away from the boy standing above her.</p><p>“Lukas,” she said.  “Kill her.”</p><p>The District 2 male nodded slowly, then turned around.  He raised his bow and aimed it right at Avalon.  Then, without hesitation, he let the arrow fly.</p><p>Avalon looked up just in time to feel the arrow burry itself in her shoulder.</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Europa grabbed my arm.  Her fingers dug into my skin.  I tried to breathe, but found that I couldn’t fill my lungs.  It was as though that arrow had dug into me, had sunk into my chest.  Around us, the room was completely silent.  All cheering and betting and discussion had dropped away the moment that arrow flew.</p><p>Avalon yelped when the arrow pierced her skin, and her free hand went up to it.  Her fingers wrapped around the shaft, but she didn’t pull it out.  Instead her wide eyes turned in the direction that the arrow had come from and stopped on the District 2 male with the bow in his hands.</p><p>“What--?” she started.</p><p>But he was already pulling another arrow out of the quiver and nocking it on the bow.</p><p>“Better run, Vitner,” hissed the District 4 girl from Avalon’s side.  Avalon turned to see the girl lifting up a trident.  “Because if he misses, I won’t.”</p><p>Avalon didn’t need clarification.  She turned and began to sprint.  Legs pumped up and down as she put as much space between herself and the other Careers as she possibly could.  The pain from the arrow was lost in the adrenaline burst she needed to clear out of the Cornucopia.  She made her escape as quickly as she could, occasionally taking a step to the side to throw off the archer behind her.</p><p>An arrow whizzed by her, barely missing her ear.  Another one—this time from the District 4 female who had put down the trident and snagged up another set of bow and arrows—nearly hit her calf.  Moments later, Avalon disappeared into the trees, never stopping as she put as much space as she could between herself and the other Careers.</p><p>Avalon Vitner, Career of District 1, was forcibly removed from the Career pack.</p><p>It was only once she was out of sight of the Cornucopia that the room roared to life.  Within a few short breaths, everything had changed. Avalon was no longer the star of the Career Pack, a shoe-in for victory.  Instead she was a rogue player on her own against an arena full of people who wanted her dead.  How long could a Career, hated by all other tributes both Career and non-Career, survive on her own this early in the Games?</p><p>The betting began to change immediately as it evolved with the current situation.  Those who had placed money on her making the first kill would go home happy, as would those who correctly bet on her making three kills in the bloodbath.  But everyone else now scrambled for another reason to put money on her.  Or not.  Now the other Careers had the attention of the Capitol, and they weren’t going to live in the shadows of the District 1 legacy.</p><p>“Oh my gawd, I can’t believe it!”</p><p>“I had nearly $40,000 on her!”</p><p>“Have you ever seen anything like it?  This is so exciting!”</p><p>“What’s the story?  Why is the District 2 girl so sickly?  Why did they turn on District 1?”</p><p>“She is strong!  She’ll be able to kill everyone.  Did you see the way she handles knives?”</p><p>“I can’t <em>wait</em> to see what happens next!”</p><p>By my sides, both Europa and Hammer were quiet.  There, in this moment, they had the briefest of respite before the crowds of people descended upon them to pull their brains apart and ask so many questions that there were no answers for.  And in the moment, I understood why Hammer had me sit between him and Europa.</p><p>Hammer knew.</p><p>And so did Butch and Ferrer and Gill and Fjord.</p><p>They all knew, and none of them could tell Europa or any other living soul because that would screw up the chances of their own tributes being victorious.  I don’t know at what point this plan was put into place or even if the other Career-mentors had worked together to plan it with their tributes, but it was clear that it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision.  Avalon picked off tributes for the others, and then when the bloodbath ended, there was no use for her.</p><p>I recalled how Avalon predicted that something like this would happen.  But she had no way of knowing that it would occur so soon into the Hunger Games, only minutes after it all started.  Poor Avalon.  Physically prepared, mentally terrified, and socially awkward.  She had told me she couldn’t relate well to the others.  Did they sense it?  Was that why they had turned on her rather than using her status to help the pack as a whole?</p><p>Tears threatened to fall from my eyelids, so I sat up straight and forced myself to regain control.  Avalon was more than capable.  She wasn’t going to let this set her back.  And me getting emotional would only harm her, so it was better to pretend like everything was under control and this was part of the plan.  She might not have known that the Careers would turn on her, but she was more than capable of getting out of the arena without them.</p><p>The cannons boomed onscreen to signify the official end of the bloodbath.  Eight dead.  Sixteen alive.  Fifteen would have to die before one of them would step out of the arena alive.</p><p>The Careers—the remaining ones—got to work immediately sorting through the supplies.  Already they were deciding who would go out and begin hunting and who would guard the supplies.  The District 2 female, Tori, was in no shape to move, but she also couldn’t be left by herself to guard because anyone could get past her.  But we didn’t get to follow their plans for long before people were coming up to us to talk.</p><p>Do you want me to write about it all?  Do you think I should sit here and record word-for-word all the things people said to Europa and me?  I can remember everything.  It’s burned on my brain and I’ll likely never forget it.  But I don’t want to memorialize it all, so I will give you a sample:</p><p> </p><p>Mallory Goodwinks: “Your sister is so brave!  To think that she was betrayed like that. You poor dears.”</p><p>Europa: “Thank you.  She is more than capable of handling whatever challenge is sent her way.  Just keep watching, Mrs. Goodwinks.”</p><p> </p><p>Calistoga Warthington: “She killed three tributes and then they turned on her.  I’ve never seen a bloodbath quite this exciting.  It certainly takes the cake for the best bloodbath in a decade.”</p><p>Me: “Avalon is just getting warmed up.  She doesn’t need the rest of the Careers to shine in the arena.”</p><p> </p><p>Shine McManst: “You must be so upset!  I know your older sister is busy with her mentor duties, but I could keep you company tonight if you get lonely by yourself.”</p><p>Me: “No, thank you, Mr. McManst.  I might not be an official mentor, but I <em>am</em> working with Europa this year and don’t want to neglect my duties.”</p><p> </p><p>Red Blathers: “Europa!  I can’t believe what happened!  How long do you think Avalon will last now that she’s by herself?”</p><p>Europa: “Until the Hunger Games end, sir.  She will be our victor.”</p><p> </p><p>See?  This is the sort of crap we have to deal with.  Nobody cares if our sister just got shot with an arrow or that she may die.  They only see that she is a piece in a larger game.  Something to bet on.  Someone ultimately disposable.  It’s not until we hear the final announcement when twenty-three others are dead that she will finally have meaning and value to the people of the Capitol.  She won’t be a tribute any longer but a victor, and everyone will want to know everything about her.</p><p>The party came to an end and we stepped outside to a waiting cab.</p><p>“Go home, Isabella,” Europa said, her voice heavy with exhaustion.</p><p>“Are you going back to the training center?” I asked.</p><p>She shook her head.  “Have another party to attend.”</p><p>“Oh.  I can come with you.”</p><p>“It’s VIP.  Only on invite.  Small and intimate.”</p><p>“Uh huh,” I said.  If I understood what she was implying, then I have heard of such parties but fortunately have never been invited to one.  But they were good ways to get sponsorships for tributes, especially if things were getting a bit tight.  Avalon was on her own without any supplies save for a handful of knives.  We both knew that she was capable of survival, but there were certainly other things in the arena that no one could predict.</p><p>So as I climbed into the cab, I said, “Call me if you need anything.”</p><p>Europa waved and then started out for the cab behind mine.  I watched her through the back window as my own cab pulled away and I wondered if she had to do the same thing for me.</p>
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<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’ve been glued to the television since I wrote about this morning’s party.  It’s the evening of the first day, and I can’t believe that we will have to slog through this for days—maybe even weeks—until it finally ends.</p><p>Avalon trudged through the forest for the majority of the day, putting as much distance between herself and the others as she could.  It was nearing evening before she came across the District 9 female.  A knife was in her had within a moment, but the girl raised up her own hands and said, “Stop!  I can help you!”</p><p>Without lowering the knife, Avalon said, “Help me with what?”</p><p>The girl pointed towards her shoulder.  “I was training to be a nurse before this.”</p><p>Avalon studied her.  The District 9 girl was eighteen.  Older.  More mature.  But it was Avalon who was in control of the situation right now.</p><p>“You will fix my shoulder and share your supplies.  If you fail to do this, I will kill you,” she said at last.  “As long as it looks good, then we’ll go our own separate ways.”</p><p>The girl eagerly nodded.  “Yes, of course,” she said.</p><p>Avalon moved closer, but the knife was no longer raised.  She kept it in her hand as the District 9 girl bade her to sit down beneath a tree and turned to her supply bag.</p><p>I don’t know what the nursing program is in District 9, but I do believe she was telling the truth because she had managed to grab a bag with a big “+” on it.  No doubt the Gamemakers put it in because they knew of her skills, and once she had seen it, she honed in for the symbol indicating its contents.</p><p>Carefully and slowly she worked on Avalon.  Sterilizing the area, removing the arrow without causing additional damage, cleaning the wound, packing it full of some sort of medicine, wrapping it.  Every motion was crisp and precise.</p><p>“Thank you,” Avalon said as soon as the District 9 girl backed away.  “Jessica, right?”</p><p>The District 9 tribute blinked at her.  “You know my name?”</p><p>Avalon shrugged, the motion causing her to wince the slightest.  “I know more than just weaponry,” she said.  “What else do you have in that bag?”</p><p>Jessica unzipped it and revealed the contents—bandages, wraps, ointments, pain relievers.  But no food or water.  No weaponry.  Nothing that would help her stay alive longer than a few days.  Avalon surveyed it all and then nodded.</p><p>“Water sources?  Food?” she asked.</p><p>Jessica shook her head.</p><p>“We’ll find something.  C’mon,” Avalon said before standing up and walking away.</p><p>The District 9 girl looked puzzled for a moment but then followed after her.  I can only imagine that she was trying to figure out why the Career who she had healed in exchange for her life was now using terms for the both of them like ‘we.’  Weren’t they supposed to go their separate ways?</p><p>They walked for an hour before Avalon stopped and held up a finger.  Jessica halted where she was and looked around, trying to identify what captured Avalon’s attention.  But after a few seconds, Avalon began walking again, this time in a slightly different direction.  Minutes later, they came across a small stream with clear running water.</p><p>Jessica’s face brightened.  “Water!  If only we had something to put it in, though,” she said.</p><p>“You figure it out.  I’m going to go get some food.”</p><p>Avalon left a confused Jessica behind her as she disappeared into the trees.</p><p>The shadows lengthened and merged together as night came upon them.  Jessica had moved downstream slightly, no doubt assuming that she was going to get ambushed but also not wanting to leave water and the promise of food.  Already two cannons had boomed, and each time Jessica had jumped up from her seat on a fallen log and then sat back down and tried to calm her nerves.</p><p>At long last, Avalon re-emerged with two rabbits and a big backpack.  Jessica looked surprised; she couldn’t see what we viewers at home saw.  She didn’t see Avalon take out the District 11 female for her supplies while she was hunting rabbits.  And the District 11 female was well-equipped with supplies.  A worthwhile hunt for a Career.  (The other cannon was for the District 9 male, though neither of them could know that.)</p><p>Avalon gave the bag to Jessica to sort through while she skinned the rabbits.  The entire time, however, my sister watched the other tribute to make sure that all contents of the bag were revealed and that nothing was slipped away where Avalon couldn’t find it.  Inside the bag were two 0.5 gallon containers of water, three MREs, a flashlight, a lighter, a tarp, and a coil of rope.  Jessica carefully divided the contents of both bags into two so that neither of them would be without supplies.  Avalon’s bag contained the following:</p><ul>
<li>One 0.5 gallon of water</li>
<li>Two MREs</li>
<li>Flashlight</li>
<li>Tarp</li>
<li>Bandages</li>
<li>Alcohol wound-cleaning pads (3)</li>
<li>Anti-infection ointment</li>
<li>Iodine tablets (poured from a bottle and tucked into the packaging of a bandage roll)</li>
<li>Pain relief tablets (with the iodine)</li>
</ul><p>Jessica’s bag, of course, had the remainder.</p><p>And then, most surprising of all, Avalon set aside the rabbits and pulled out a small knife from her boot.  Jessica flinched when she saw it, but Avalon only reached over and held it out to her.  Carefully the District 9 girl took it from Avalon.</p><p>“Why?” she asked.</p><p>“If I’m going to be hanging around you, you need to be able to defend yourself,” she said.</p><p>“What makes you think that I can use this?”</p><p>Avalon rolled her eyes.  “Because I saw you in the training center.”</p><p>Jessica opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it.  She slipped the knife into her own boot and sat back to enjoy the chunk of raw rabbit that Avalon handed her.</p><p>The Anthem played shortly thereafter, and the faces of the ten fallen tributes illuminated the sky.  If Avalon was disappointed that there were no Careers there, she didn’t show it.  Instead she turned to Jessica and said, “Do you want first watch or you want me to do it?”</p>
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<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You would think that watching Avalon in the arena would remind me of my own time in the arena, but it doesn’t.  Which is strange considering that every day or event during Prep Week reminded me of my own journey in the training center three years ago.</p><p>How many people did I kill during the bloodbath?  How many did I kill overall?</p><p>Did I ally with anyone outside the Career pack like what Avalon is doing right now?</p><p>Oh, Avalon, I hope that you survive this ordeal.  I hope that I will be able to see you again!</p><p>This morning I tried to contact Europa to see if she wanted me with her, but I received no response.  I know my older sister well enough; she has enveloped herself in her duties so completely that everything else gets shut out.  The only thing I can do is stay home and watch Avalon and pray that she lives for another day.</p><p>The Career pack killed the District 3 male and District 11 male today.  It wasn’t as easy as one would have expected.  I think that losing Avalon really brought down their efficiency.  Neither the District 2 male nor the District 4 female are nearly as good with the bow and arrow as they pretend to be (otherwise one or the other certainly would have landed a more critical hit on Avalon yesterday), and they are forced to get close to their prey to make the kill.</p><p>Both the District 3 and District 11 boys were together in an alliance; they jumped up as soon as they saw the three pack hunters: Edric, the boy from District 2, and the girl from District 4.  Edric lashed out with a heavy blunt that knocked the District 3 boy to the ground, but the District 11 boy was up and running.  It took eight shots to take down the boy, with only three of them landing hits in non-critical places.  And then we had to watch the kid crawl across the ground, arrows sticking up from his pincushion body, in a desperate attempt to escape.  At last the District 4 girl put a trident into him and the cannon fired.</p><p>But the cameras focused quite a bit on Avalon, more than what any other tribute wandering around received.  Of course.  There was still good money on her, and now that she was with the District 9 girl in an unlikely and unspoken alliance, everyone was mesmerized.  This was far more interesting—at least in the short term—than her being with the Career pack.  They were taking out tributes on their own, and it would have been <em>so predictable</em> (per Janice Lovely) to have Avalon leading the group.  “None of the others would have had a chance to show their skills,” the Hunger Games announcer had said.</p><p>Avalon killed a few more rabbits and a squirrel, and the two of them took time to roast them over the fire.  My sister knows her survival stuff.  We all do.  That’s what makes us stand out from other Careers, at least more than one would think.  Everyone always thinks of our weaponry skills as what differentiate us, but that’s not quite true.  Many Careers are good with weapons, but most forget about the other aspects of life in the arena.  Knowing how to build a shelter, hunt for game, or start a fire could very well save your life more than knowing how to use any single weapon.</p><p>She didn’t bother how to show Jessica what she was doing whenever she stopped and did something like light the fire or gut the game, but she didn’t keep it a secret, either.  She just did whatever she had to do to make sure that she—they—kept going.  And Jessica would stop and tend to Avalon’s wound, reapplying ointment as needed.  They didn’t talk a whole lot, but that didn’t stop the cameras from showing them almost non-stop.</p><p>“Why aren’t you with the other Careers?” Jessica finally worked up the nerve to ask as she and Avalon walked through the forest.  Dried pine needles crunched underneath their boots.  Little squirrels and chipmunks skittered away in the sparse underbrush with the sound of the tributes’ footsteps.</p><p>“They decided that they didn’t need me anymore,” Avalon said simply.</p><p>“They turned on you?”  Jessica was becoming bolder the more time she spent with Avalon.</p><p>“Yes.  Hence the arrow,” my sister replied.</p><p>“Why would they do that?”</p><p>“I killed four people yesterday,” came the response, delivered in a cold and callous voice.  “It’s only a matter of time until they know I’ll inevitably turn on them.  So they decided to beat me to it.”</p><p>Jessica drew in a breath, then dared to say, “I know you’re just using me.”</p><p>“Just as you are using me,” Avalon replied.  “It’s the Hunger Games.  When it comes to being a Career, it’s the first thing you learn.  You are expendable to everyone else and important to no one.”</p><p>Was this my little sister talking?  Was this my little Avalon?  It sounded like someone had taken her voice and manipulated it to say words that weren’t hers.  What she was saying was technically correct, but I had never heard this sort of conversation from her before.</p><p>“How long until we turn on each other?” Jessica asked.</p><p>“Whenever it’s necessary, I suppose.  Could be an hour, could be a week,” Avalon said.</p><p>This all must be so strange to someone who is not a Career, I realize now that I think about it.  Everyone knows that alliances won’t last, but I think it’s always been a given to us from District 1 that they are merely tools to see the end accomplished, not the last urges of humanity that will eventually be stripped away.  No, we Careers lost our humanity long before that gong sounded and released us from our pedestals.</p><p>“When that time comes . . . can you give me a chance?” Jessica asked.  “I know I’ll probably die, but I don’t want to be stabbed in the back or have my throat slit while I’m sleeping.”</p><p>Avalon looked at her out of the corner of her eye and raised her brow.  She didn’t respond for a moment, but at last she said, “There are no guarantees in the Hunger Games.  But I will try to honor your request.”</p><p>Jessica was quiet then, and the conversation faded into silence.  I have to admit that I am impressed with the District 9 girl’s request.  If you knew that you were going to die, it would be easier to be stabbed in the back where you don’t see it coming, or to have your throat slit when you sleep.  Those are quick deaths.  You don’t have to anticipate the pain and the end of your life.  You’re just gone.</p><p>A few minutes later, Avalon put a hand up.  She motioned for Jessica to climb into a large tree.  It was difficult, but the two of them managed to hoist themselves up into the lower branches of the pine tree.  If they went any further, the branches would surely break.  But if they had stayed on the ground, there was nowhere to hide from danger.</p><p>And danger was on the horizon.</p><p>“All we need to do is chase the little bastard to the river,” Edric was saying to Lukas, the District 2 male.  “He can’t swim, so it shouldn’t be a problem.  He’ll be cornered.”</p><p>The voices grew louder as the two approached Avalon and Jessica.  They were talking about killing the District 5 male.</p><p>“Fine, but what about that sword he has?” Lukas asked.</p><p>“Nah, he doesn’t know how to use it.  Saw him in the training center,” said Edric.  “Almost dropped it on himself.”</p><p>From up in the tree, Avalon slapped a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle.  Jessica shot her a look.  But neither girl moved and the boys below them didn’t notice that they were being watched.  At long last they disappeared, their voices growing fainter and fainter.</p><p>“What was that about?” Jessica whispered.</p><p>“They’re working with false information,” Avalon said happily.</p><p>“How do you know?”</p><p>“Oh, because I made up a bunch of bullshit about all the tributes and talked about it loudly in front of the other Careers,” she replied proudly.  “Some of it is true because you can’t just tell a bunch of lies without a little bit of truth slipped in to anchor it down.  But most of it is just a load of garbage.  The thing is that they were so busy showing off their weapon skills that they didn’t take time to really look around them.”</p><p>Avalon, I had thought you were just being too loose with your speech in the District 1 apartment, but this was really something you and Europa had come up with.  It was part of how you are going to win, and I was left out completely.  I am not offended, dear sister.  I am proud that you have figured out another way to help you survive.</p><p>It was no surprise to us viewers at home that when Edric and Lukas chased the District 5 male to the water that he swam right across without an issue.  And it was no surprise that when he was pursued, he put up a struggle, giving Lukas a fair gash across his leg and Edric and stab in the stomach.  But ultimately Lukas finished him off, and the two Careers limped back to the others at the Cornucopia.</p><p>It is the evening of the second day, and thirteen tributes are dead.  I count down not the time but the faces that are shown in the sky.  Avalon will return home.</p>
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<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This morning I checked the news and, when there was nothing to report, I headed to the training center.  I slept very poorly last night, with strange muttations chasing me around everywhere I went in my dreams, and when I woke up, I decided that I needed to be around people and have social contact.</p><p>The moment I stepped into the mentor room, it felt as though someone had turned every single mentor to stone.  The other Career mentors were huddled together whispering between themselves, but Europa was on her own.  The uneasiness of the situation had spread across the room and affected the other mentors who were doing their best to keep out of the way.  Cassiopeia threw me an uneasy smile when she saw me, but then she turned her attention to the Career mentors sitting next to her and covertly listened to their conversation.</p><p>I was about to settle into Hammer’s long-abandoned seat, but Europa said, “Don’t.  Jenna is sitting there.”</p><p>Yeah, okay.  Jenna is the victor of the 103<sup>rd</sup> Hunger Games.  District 9 hasn’t had many victors over the past few decades, so like several other districts, you could pretty much predict who would be mentoring this year.  Jenna was always one of the two.  But right now, she was nowhere to be seen.  I grabbed a chair from one of the abandoned mentor stations and dragged it over.</p><p>“How are you doing,” I asked Europa as I sat down next to her.</p><p>She shrugged.  “Living the dream.”</p><p>“Avalon doesn’t need them,” I said in barely more than a whisper.</p><p>“I know that,” Europa snapped.  “But that doesn’t make it any easier.  Or make them—” she nodded in the direction of the other Career mentors “—any more bearable.”</p><p>I followed her gesture and looked at the other five huddled together.  If it were just a normal Hunger Games without the concern of family affairs, it wouldn’t be bad.  But to know that they were aware of the betrayal before it happened and then did nothing is just . . . shitty.  I struggle to keep from blaming them because I know it’s part of the Hunger Games, but I can’t help the wave of contempt that washed through me upon seeing the five of them together.  I want to scream at them that it’s my sister’s life we’re dealing with, not that of a random tribute, but I know it doesn’t matter.</p><p>Europa pressed her palms against her eyes.  “It’s just a few more days,” she muttered to herself.  “Then this will all be over.”</p><p>I had no words.  I wished I could comfort her, but I couldn’t.  There was nothing I could say that would make her feel better, just as there was nothing she—or anyone else—could say that would make me feel better.</p><p>On screen was a typical morning in the arena, both for Avalon and Jessica, and for the Career pack.  People were going about their day preparing breakfast and talking about their plans.  Fortunately there was nothing of great interest to show.  Still, Europa couldn’t tear herself away from the screen and no longer acknowledged my presence.</p><p>“I’ll catch you later,” I said to her as I stood up and began to drag the chair back to its proper place.  “Let me know if you need anything.”</p><p>In reply, I received a grunt.</p><p>Once the chair was in place, I headed into the hallway.  What was I supposed to do from here?  I didn’t want to go back to my apartment and pretend that everything was normal, but I also couldn’t hang around here. I thought of going to Isolde’s as she had once told me I could, but she was so close with Hammer that I couldn’t bear the thought of bothering her, not at this time.</p><p>As I headed towards the elevator, someone behind me called my name.  I turned around to see Cassiopeia jogging towards me.</p><p>“Hey, Isabella?” she asked as she slowed down to a walk. “Do you have a moment?”</p><p>“Yeah, sure,” I said.</p><p>Cassiopeia hesitated.  “When this is all over . . . can you show me around the Capitol a little?”</p><p>I stared hard at her, this girl only a couple years younger than me and yet without the real experiences of Capitol life.  I felt so much more mature than her all of a sudden.  Kind of stupid, I know.  But for once it wasn’t me tagging around after others but someone who came to me for a hand.</p><p>“Of course.  I’ll take you wherever you want to go,” I replied.</p><p>Relief washed across her face.  “Thank you,” she said.  Then, “I have to get back to my tribute.”</p><p>As I watched her go back to her tribute, I thought of how it must be awkward for the non-Career victors.  After I won, I was immediately scooped up into the District 1 cohort.  There were so many victors that I barely had to ask any questions before people were filling me up with information.  Sure, I had to pester Europa to take me places, but despite any lingering loneliness, I was never really <em>alone</em>.  Cassiopeia, on the other hand, has very few people to turn to, and one of them is entirely out of the picture since he didn’t come to the Capitol this year.  Going to the aquarium might have been the only moment of relaxation she had since she arrived.</p><p>I didn’t get much of a chance to contemplate it, however, because suddenly there was a large cry from the mentor room, several victors’ voices joined together in a frustrated wail.  Without thinking about it, I booked it for the room, threw open the door, and nearly collided with Cassiopeia.</p><p>“What happened?” I demanded of anyone who cared to answer.  Cassiopeia only shook her head; she didn’t know.</p><p>I ran over to Europa who was staring intently at the Career mentors.  They were talking too quickly, too jumbled up for me to understand what was going on.</p><p>“Europa?!” I demanded.</p><p>She tore her attention away from them.  “Not Avalon.  She’s okay.  But Tori died—the poison finally did her in.”</p><p>I looked up towards Ferrer, the District 2 female’s mentor.  He was arguing with Butch, the mentor for the District 2 male.  It was something about an antidote and why one tribute hadn’t done more than another, etc.  Everything mixed together and I had a hard time sorting it all out.</p><p>I sank into the empty chair next to Europa, not caring if it was Jenna’s.  This time, Europa didn’t kick me out.</p><p>“Why are they arguing?” I asked.</p><p>Europa shook her head.  “They think that one of the tributes might have had the antidote to the poison.  Ferrer says that if they had kept Avalon with them for longer, they might have been able to kill more tributes faster and find the antidote.”</p><p>The words sank in as I watched the Career mentors bicker with each other.  I don’t think any of them were really angry with another, per se, but they were certainly getting heated about the situation.  Some of the mentors, such as Ferrer, weren’t really thrilled that the tributes had turned against Avalon so early, but none of them were against them ganging up on her.  My stomach churned at the thought of these people who were my peers, maybe even my friends, tossing my sister’s life around so easily.</p><p>I turned back to Europa and the screen caught my eye.  Avalon and Jessica were doing nothing of great importance.  But it wasn’t them that drew my attention.  I leaned over and zoomed in on the two girls.</p><p>“Europa,” I said.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Look.  Do you think. . . .” I motioned towards the bag strapped to Jessica’s back.</p><p>It took Europa a few seconds to catch on, but then her eyes opened wide.  “No shit.  It didn’t even occur to me.”</p><p>We sat there staring at the screen together, neither of us saying anything for a moment.  That bag with the big “+” on it may have had more than just bandages and antiseptic creams.  Could it be that the Gamemakers had put that bag there not just to lure Jessica in but to create a game of cat and mouse?</p><p>Europa began typing on the keyboard, pulling up old footage from the days prior.  After several minutes, she found where they had gone through the supplies under Avalon’s close eye, but there was no antidote for a poison.  I slumped back in my chair, so certain that it would have worked out that way.  Well, no matter.  Tori of District 2 was dead and that was one less person to get in the way between Avalon and victory.  It’s a horrible thing to think, but I don’t care.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How would the Careers be expected to know that another tribute had the antidote?” Cassiopeia asked me as we lay on opposite couches of the mentor room lounge.</p><p>“I don’t think they were supposed to,” I replied.  “I think that they were just expected to kill tributes so quickly that they would be able to come across the antidote at random before Tori died.”</p><p>“What a strange set-up,” she commented.</p><p>I stared up at the ceiling and allowed my eyes to relax so that the texture began to merge together.  “It’s probably to make things more interesting.  Like if the Careers killed everyone so quickly, then they’d turn on each other after only a couple days in the arena.  But if they had the antidote, Tori would be back into play and then there’d be more drama.”</p><p>Cassiopeia snorted.  “It really is just a game to them.”</p><p>“It’s weird.  We live our entire lives thinking that winning the Hunger Games is the ultimate achievement, but to the people in the Capitol, it’s just another sporting event,” I added.</p><p>“And for us who don’t have any desire to go, it’s only a nightmare they force us to live through,” Cassiopeia agreed.  “What made you want to volunteer?  Just because your sister did?”</p><p>I shrugged.  “More than that.  I was training since before I entered school.  It was so engrained in me that I would go that I wasn’t even allowed to think otherwise.  Though now I look back and see that—”</p><p>Suddenly my couch was tipping and I felt myself falling towards the floor.  I landed on the rug with a solid THUMP.  Groaning, I pushed myself up and was not surprised to see Europa with her hands still on the back of my couch.</p><p>Cassiopeia was sitting up, her legs swung over the sides of her couch and her eyes wide.</p><p>“I think that’s enough talk,” Europa said, glaring down at me.  “You should let Cassiopeia relax while she can because I don’t think her tribute will be lasting much longer.”</p><p>Concern came across Cassiopeia’s face and she immediately looked to the monitoring device attached to her wrist.  All mentors had them; it allowed them to see their tributes’ stats immediately.  Normally when a tribute was injured, it vibrated.  But it was only confusion, not worry, that furrowed the mentor’s brow.  Then she turned and looked up at my sister.</p><p>“Do you have an explanation?” I asked for her.</p><p>Europa shrugged.  “Nothing that concerns you.  Get off the floor.”</p><p>I did as instructed and pushed myself to my feet.  There were nicer ways to interrupt a conversation, but I supposed that Europa preferred to show off her own unique method of getting attention.  It might have been years since she left the arena, but she still had enough muscles to lift whatever piece of furniture she wanted.</p><p>“What do you want anyhow?” I asked, slightly perturbed about the interruption.</p><p>“That’s how you’re talking to me now?” Europa demanded.  “You’ve been spending too much time around bad influences?”  She shot a look at Cassiopeia.</p><p>“Give it up,” I said with a huff.  “Lay off her.  It’s not like you care about where I am, so why the change?”</p><p>Europa turned her full attention to me.  Her eyes bored into mine.  I didn’t dare look away no matter how much I wanted to slip away from her icy stare.</p><p>“Come with me,” she demanded.</p><p>I didn’t break my gaze until she grabbed me by the arm, spun me around, and headed me out the door.  We walked through the mentor room and into the hallway.  There she jerked me to a stop and turned me around once more to face her.</p><p>“You are a Vitner,” she hissed.  I was in for a lecture, so I gritted my teeth and waited it out.  “You must behave like one.  Your job—your one job—is to support your sister.  But you are doing nothing of the sort.  Instead I find you talking shit about your success.  Moreover, you’re getting quite close to the District 5 girl.  You want to be hanging around District 5?  They’re all worthless and they are a recipe for trouble.</p><p>“I was really hoping to see you blossom this year.  Last year you did <em>so well</em> as a mentor, and now you’re just . . . I don’t know.  A completely different person.  Avalon needs you to be strong and supportive, not to deny your history and all that we worked so hard to accomplish.  If you are strong, others will see Avalon as strong.  Your behavior reflects directly on Avalon’s wellbeing.  People want to support strong tributes.  They don’t want to give sponsorships to tributes whose siblings are pissing on the very institution that Avalon is currently in.”</p><p>She drew in a deep breath, and the next words that came out appeared to be very difficult for her to say: “Sometimes I think that you did not deserve to be victor.”</p><p>There were no words that I could say to respond.  My breath was drawn from me as I stared into her face, so familiar and yet so alien at this moment.  Never before had she dared to say anything of the sort.  Never had she uttered such words.  Because ‘you did not deserve to be victor’ was synonymous with ‘you should have died in the arena.’</p><p>I closed my eyes and turned away.</p><p>Why?  Why did she need to say this sort of shit to me?  Wasn’t it bad enough that we were watching our little sister in the arena?  Couldn’t she be supportive like she used to be?  What had happened to Europa?</p><p>I wiped away a tear that rolled down my cheek.</p><p>Europa grunted.  “Fine.  Sit here and cry.  When you’re able to be a little more mature, come back inside.”</p><p>She gave me one last long look before she brushed past me and disappeared into the mentor room.  The silence that followed was thick and imposing.  I forced myself to withhold the sobs that threatened to break free from me, but I couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down my face.</p><p>How could I recover from a comment like that?</p><p>To know that my own sister wishes that I had died because I am a disgrace to the family.  All because I dared to voice my own opinions.  And yet I felt terrible because I knew that in some manner she was right.  I couldn’t go about saying negative things about the Hunger Games because it could very well mean that Avalon would die.  The Gamemakers could be spiteful people, and it wouldn’t be the first time they took out a tribute because they didn’t like what a victor had to say.</p><p>I needed to leave.  Just get out of here.  I’d go and spend a few minutes in a bathroom somewhere cleaning up, but then I’d have to figure out some other way to spend my time.  Just as I was about to push myself away from the wall I leaned against, I heard a voice beside me.</p><p>“Career families are messed up in a hundred different ways,” said Ferrer.  “I lost an older brother in the Hunger Games, and I thought my family would fall apart.  Not out of grief but out of sheer embarrassment.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've had Ferrer's backstory for quite some time but ultimately decided to not write it as its own stand-alone.  Please be aware that there are some heavy topics in here, so if you are concerned that mental health topics may affect you, be careful with this chapter.  I have included a tl;dr at the end.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ferrer lead me to a quiet room on the same floor.  It was a cozy space, though I still am not certain what it was used for officially.  We sat down in arm chairs, and for several minutes, neither of us said anything.</p><p>“There are a few places like this around the training center,” he said at last.  “Just have to know where to find them.”</p><p>It had been many years since Ferrer was in the arena.  He won the 118<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games.  But he was worn down with wrinkles under his eyes that just wouldn’t go away no matter how many times the Capitol treated it with plastic surgery.  His hair was greying and he didn’t bother covering it with dyes.  He must be nearing fifty years old, and he certainly looked it, maybe even older.</p><p>He sat back and looked at me.  “Two of my brothers died in training,” he said.  “We never spoke of them because they brought so much disgrace to the family.  My oldest brother managed to escape—he volunteered but was never chosen and eventually aged out of the reaping.  So when that happened, my parents decided that they would have a victor no matter the cost.  They arranged it so that both my second oldest brother and my older sister would be in the Hunger Games together.”</p><p>He rubbed his chin in thought, eyes no longer on me.  I waited to see if he would say more, both fascinated and horrified by his story.  How alone I felt in the things I was subjected to, the sibling I was forced to deny, the unending feelings of failure.  Most of the other Careers I met—the ones from District 1, at least—didn’t have to train like Europa and I did.  To hear somebody say that they went through something similar was almost . . . refreshing.  But there was revulsion in there, too.  That he had to watch not just one but multiple siblings die.</p><p>And what about his sister?  I tried to recall exactly which victors came from District 2.  I didn’t think that there had been sibling victors from that district and my stomach tightened at the thought that she didn’t make it out of the arena alive.  Part of me wanted to not know his sister’s fate, but curiosity got the best of me.</p><p>I swallowed hard and managed to ask, “What happened to your sister?”</p><p>“You know there are ways to escape the Hunger Games,” Ferrer said.  “A few days before she and my brother were expected to volunteer—this time they would be guaranteed positions—we found her dead.  She had cut her femoral artery and bled out.  It was labeled an accident, but none of my remaining sibling and I doubted her intentions.</p><p>“When it came down to it, she couldn’t face my brother in the arena.  If she had somehow managed to escape volunteering this year, they would have made her volunteer with me a year or two later.  She couldn’t kill her siblings, so she killed herself.”</p><p>I stared down at my hands.  What does one say to that?</p><p>“There’s so much death surrounding victory,” I said at last.  “The sacrifices we make even outside the arena.”</p><p>I stopped.  I wanted to tell him.  I <em>wanted</em> to let him know that he wasn’t alone in it, either.  That I had a brother.  That my brother was dead and buried, both literally and figuratively.  But despite the pain inside my chest that could only be released by speaking it through, I knew that I could give away nothing.  Avalon’s life was still hanging in the balance, and there was no way I would dare to jeopardize that.</p><p>Ferrer studied me and then nodded.  “Europa is under a lot of pressure right now.  Both in terms of keeping Avalon alive and also keeping up appearances,” he said.  “The things that we have to do . . . stabbing you guys in the back just to try to keep our tributes alive.  It’s despicable.  I’m sorry that it had to come to that, but I hope you will understand that it wasn’t personal.”</p><p>“That’s my sister,” I managed.</p><p>“Yes, and Tori was also somebody’s sister,” he replied.</p><p>I stared at him.</p><p>He shrugged.  “I told you.  Despicable.  But also a necessity.”</p><p>Things always seem more complicated when you know the truth.  That’s why I wanted to write it all down here many days ago.  But when I first picked up my pen and this notebook, I didn’t expect to record anyone’s truth but my own and that of my family.  Now I have the truth of another Career victor whose own world was ripped apart well before he set foot in the arena.  And because I know the truth, I find that I can’t really wrap my head around how to handle my own reality.  Instead I’m left wishing that the truth I know isn’t just recorded in the pages of this book but could be shared with those I trust.  The urge to speak has grown stronger now than it has ever before, and I fear that I may not be able to contain it.</p><p>Ferrer let me sit in silence for several minutes as I tried to understand things.  He had sunk back into the chair and was flipping through a magazine left on the end table.  The somber expression on his face told me that he found no amusement in the shiny pages.</p><p>When he caught me staring, he put the magazine down.  “Careers like you and me don’t get much of a childhood.  And we don’t really know what to do once we’ve become victors and are offered freedom that we’ve never experienced in our lives.  I drank myself stupid for the first several years because all of the structure I had as a kid suddenly vanished.  I went from a nobody to one of the most popular people in the country, and I couldn’t handle that.”</p><p>He shook his head.  “You have your sisters.  And yes, I mean Avalon, too.  I know that people are probably telling you that she’ll make it because she’s so wonderful and all these other things that you cannot stand hearing anymore, but I do believe that she will be our victor.  Honestly.</p><p>“I don’t think that the other Careers turning on Avalon really hurt her,” he said.  “It might have actually helped her.  Everyone expected her to be the leader and kill all the non-Career tributes with the pack to back her up, but that would have been predictable.”</p><p>I nodded.  While I didn’t disagree, I also couldn’t get my hopes up that she would live.</p><p>“Europa is hard on you, but you’re strong, too.  You’ve been through things in the arena that no other victor has gone through.  You have your life.  Your own life.  Make of it what you will and don’t let Europa drag you down.”  Ferrer stood up at this point and looked down at me.  “I’m sorry, but I have to leave.  There’s an interview scheduled in a few minutes.”</p><p>“Thank you,” I said.  But I was still trying to figure out that little bit he had dropped in about my time in the arena.  I watched absently as he headed out the door and into the hallway.</p><p>Now I need to know.  I just <em>have</em> to know what happened to me in the arena.  I’m trying to record the truth, I’ve told you that a hundred times before.  But how can I record the truth when I’m withholding it from even myself?  I might not remember what happened to me, but I sure as hell can find out.  The thought had me shaking, and as I pushed myself up from my chair and headed to the door, I had to hug my arms around me to keep my body from trembling.</p><p>Who knew that the truth could be so daunting?</p><p>I suppose that’s why we all try to cover it up and glamorize it.  Make up our own truths.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ferrer reveals that he had a terrible Career upbringing as well.  Two brothers died in training.  One brother managed to not get chosen as volunteer.  A fourth brother was to volunteer with their sister.  The sister ended up killing herself so that she would not be forced to go to the arena with her brother, who ended up dying in the Hunger Games.  (Of the six children, only Ferrer and his eldest brother lived through childhood.)  Isabella tries to digest this all, and she finally vows that if she is going to be recording the truth, she needs to record her own truth--including the truth about her own time in the arena.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Chapter 28</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wish I didn’t know.  I wish I could go back to a few hours ago when I wrote my last entry and live once again in denial.  But I can’t.  And I won’t.  I know the truth, and I will record it down here so that I can never forget it again.</p><p>Without knowing what to do, I put down my pen and headed out to see Isolde.  She is only seven years older than me, and yet I find that she has a wealth of insight.  And even though I knew that I should be angry at Hammer right now—and thus Isolde by extension—I knew that what Ferrer said was true.  They had to do what they had to do in order to give their tributes the best shot.  Just as Europa would do anything to get Avalon out of the arena alive.</p><p>I couldn’t concentrate on the drive to Isolde’s house.  The cabbie tried to ask me a few questions, but my brain whirred around and I couldn’t focus on his words.  The only thoughts I could manage were about what exactly I was doing and how I was going to approach Isolde.  Wouldn’t it be better to just go and turn on my Hunger Games to see it all unfold on my own?  But I couldn’t do that.  I knew that I would just sit there in front of the blank television screen, unable to gather the courage to press the play button on the remote.</p><p>When Isolde answered the door, her smile immediately faded into concern as she saw me huddled there on her porch.  “Get inside, Isabella,” she ordered as she half dragged me across the threshold.  Once I was in, she was leading me to the sitting room.  “What’s going on?”</p><p>“I—I’m really confused,” I managed.</p><p>We sat down on her couch and I immediately regretted coming over here.  But despite the pounding of my heart and the sweat that glistened on my palms, I knew that I couldn’t leave.  <em>You made the right decision,</em> I told myself.  <em>You need to know the truth.</em></p><p>“Is everything okay?” Isolde asked, her voice quiet.</p><p>I thought for a moment and then shook my head.  I couldn’t even look at her.  My body trembled and I tried to sit deeper into the cushions as though it may steady the shaking.</p><p>“Isolde . . . I can’t remember.  I can’t remember my Hunger Games.”</p><p>It was the first time I had ever uttered those words aloud.  And once they were out, it was almost like a whoosh of relief had blown out the pressure building up within me, offering me a few moments of comfort.  But soon that was replaced by terror.  I couldn’t take back what I said no matter how hard I tried.  Maybe it was a mistake saying it.  Maybe I should have at least waited until after Avalon was out of the arena.</p><p>Oh, God, if Europa were to ever find out!</p><p>“I know I was there.  I remember Prep Week, and then I remember everything right until when we were lifted into the arena,” I continued with a shaking voice.  “And then it’s gone.  I know that the arena was a large farm, and I know that it lasted nine days.  I know those things because I heard about them.  But it’s like everything was erased from my mind.  And now people keep making references, and I can’t—I just <em>can’t</em> remember anything.”</p><p>I was shivering so hard I thought that Isolde might call for a doctor right then and there.</p><p>“Have you told anyone this?” Isolde asked.</p><p>Once again, I shook my head.  “It’s stupid, you know?  I worked so hard to become a tribute, and then that entire part of my life was erased.  How could I tell anyone?”</p><p>Isolde thought about it for a moment.  I could feel her eyes on me as she studied me carefully.  They say that we look like sisters, or cousins.  Her face is a little more pointed and she has pronounced dimples and a lopsided smile, but our skin tone is close and our hair is very similar.  But it’s in this moment that I knew she couldn’t possibly be a Vitner.  She was too thoughtful.  Too caring.  Too patient.  She didn’t doubt me, or tell me that I wasn’t strong enough, or insist that I could remember if I really tried.</p><p>“What do you remember afterwards?” she inquired.</p><p>“I remember the hospital and the presentation of the victor and all those other things, but not very clearly.  Almost like a dream, or a memory that is really far away,” I explained.  “I don’t remember any interactions in the hospital, only that I was there.  Lights and machines beeping and voices.  And even though I watched the recap of the Hunger Games, it never really stuck in my head.  I was <em>there</em> but that entire part of my memory has just vanished.  Please, Isolde, don’t tell anyone!  If Europa finds out—”</p><p>“I won’t tell her,” Isolde reassured me.  She reached over and placed a hand on mine.  “But you’re clearly distressed by this.  Did you used to remember and then it vanished, or has it always never been there?  If that makes sense?”</p><p>“It does make sense.  I could never remember,” I said.  “People say things, but they never really say anything <em>directly</em>, like reference any specifics.  And today—” I paused to wipe away the tears that were flowing freely down my cheeks “—today Europa told me that I shouldn’t have been victor.”</p><p>Isolde closed her eyes and shook her head before looking back at me.  “Damnit.  Your sister’s out of control.  I’m sorry that she said that.  You are a victor, no matter what anyone says.”</p><p>“Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked.  “I went to the arena, I killed people—I assume—and I emerged victorious.”</p><p>“You really don’t remember?” she asked.  Her brows were furrowed as she studied me carefully.  I didn’t like the way she looked at me, like there was something <em>wrong</em> with me.</p><p>“No,” I said with a hint of irritation.  “What do I not remember?!”</p><p>“Isabella, you died in the arena,” Isolde said gently.  “You were not pronounced victor.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Chapter 29</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I—what?” I asked.</p><p>Isolde squeezed my hand.  “You were in the final two.  The end battle.  You were mortally wounded and they fired your cannon.  However, the wounds that you inflicted on the other tribute were so critical that before they could even get the announcement up, he had already passed out from blood loss.”</p><p>“I . . . died?” I echoed.</p><p>She nodded.  “Yeah, it was such a freak event.  The hovercraft was there and then they had someone go down and start working on Harold before they could even bring him up.  When they picked him up, they also picked up you.  And for whatever reason—maybe they saw that Harold was too far gone—they began to work on bringing you back at the same time.  It was a race to see what tribute they could resuscitate first.”</p><p>My brain spun.  The world spun.  I clung onto the couch with my free hand and tried to keep from losing myself entirely.  How on earth could something like that happen?  How could they bring back someone who was already dead?</p><p>“Isabella, hang on,” Isolde said.  “Stay with me here.”</p><p>My mouth opened but nothing came out.  Her grasp on my hand tightened, and I gradually began to feel more connected with reality.</p><p>“So I <em>should</em> be dead,” I finally managed.</p><p>Isolde shook her head.  “No, you shouldn’t be,” she said.  “You fought for your life even after you were out of the arena, and you outlasted the other remaining tribute.  You did so much better than the other tributes even before then.  It was just that Harold saw a good shot and took it.”</p><p>“But if he was supposed to be victor—”</p><p>“As I said, it was a freak occurrence,” Isolde tried to reassure me.  “Like someone who gets struck by lightning.  Doesn’t mean that they should be dead because the lightning bolt hit them—just that they managed to survive something phenomenal.”</p><p>“How did they bring me back if I was dead?”</p><p>Isolde shrugged.  “The body dies unevenly.  Like the organs, the brain, the electrical impulses.  I don’t know all the different aspects of it, nor do I know on what grounds the Gamemakers determine that somebody is ‘dead.’  I’ve even heard that somebody who is decapitated still lives for several more seconds after the head is severed from the body.  That didn’t happen to you, obviously, because it wouldn’t have been enough time to revive you before you were gone completely.”</p><p>“Did people . . . did everyone still consider me the victor?” I asked quietly.  “Were they disappointed?”</p><p>“In general, no,” she said.  “It was one of the craziest and most exciting things that people had seen in the Hunger Games in a long time.  People who had bets placed were going nuts because you technically died first, but at the same time, you were also the victor in the end because they couldn’t keep the other tribute alive.  Then there were conspiracies—”</p><p>“That it was rigged because of who I am?”  I remembered the various comments people made.  Random events.  Playing favorites.  The various remarks battered my mind and made it difficult to think.</p><p>“There was that,” Isolde said.  “And then so much more.  How they saved you because you had fewer organs damaged and they didn’t have all the organs Harold needed right in the hovercraft to begin surgery.  Or that because he was bigger they needed to provide him more blood than they had available, so they gave it to you instead because they wouldn’t be able to get enough before they lost him completely.”</p><p>“Random factors,” I muttered.  “All the random factors.”</p><p>“Yes,” Isolde agreed, though she couldn’t have any idea why the words kept repeating in my head.</p><p>“And that’s why Europa despises me.”</p><p>“She doesn’t despise you,” Isolde said.  “She loves you very much.  She got a lot of crap after you won for sleeping with officials and all this other nonsense, like that was what made them decide to revive you and let Harold die.  And now that she is under so much pressure again, she’s just kind of . . . caved, I guess.  She takes out everything on you because she subconsciously recalls what she went through to keep you alive.”</p><p>I swallowed hard.  “I must’ve seemed really ungrateful.”</p><p>“Knowing that you couldn’t remember anything really puts things into a new perspective,” Isolde offered.</p><p>“Harold . . . was your tribute?”</p><p>Isolde nodded.  “Yeah, he was.  Good guy.  Great tribute.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be.  It’s a pleasure being with you, and under normal circumstances—before this year’s Hunger Games—I have loved seeing you and Europa together.  I really hope that when all is said and done, you two can go back to having a good relationship.”</p><p>I wished—I still wish—that I hadn’t known this.  Remember when I wrote that the truth makes things more complicated?  I didn’t know just how complicated that would be.  And now there are these truths that I can’t deny, and I am writing it here to hold myself accountable.</p><p>“Isabella, now that you know what happened, do you want to watch your Hunger Games?” Isolde asked carefully.  “I will watch them with you.”</p><p>No.  I really didn’t want to.  But I found myself nodding.</p><p>“Alright, let me go get us something to drink.  Is tea okay or do you want something else?” she stood up and started off for the kitchen.</p><p>“Whatever you’re having,” I mumbled.</p><p>This was it.  Now I had no choice but to face it all, to see things as others had seen them.  I was still shaking, but considerably less so.  It felt as though my brain were trying to block out the information I had just learned, a barrier sliding little by little to cut off the memory of this conversation.  When Isolde returned, I told her this.</p><p>“Like an aperture?” she asked.  “The way light enters a camera.  Hopefully by watching this, you’ll be able to keep from forgetting.  Because apertures can be widened to let in more light.”</p><p> She handed me tea in a quaint little cup with a dainty saucer underneath.  I took it in my trembling hands and held it close to my body to keep the tea from spilling over the sides.</p><p>Isolde flicked on the television and chose the desired channel.  From here, she opted for a showing of the 143<sup>rd</sup> Annual Hunger Games.  It was too late to back out.  I braced myself for what was to come.</p><p>“I remember what happened in prep week.  Can we just skip to the arena portion?” I asked.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Chapter 30</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The camera panned across the great golden cornucopia, showing the wide farmland encircling it on all sides.  In the distance, the green mass of a corn field offered some shelter from the openness.  There was also a farm house, a barn, a few other structures.  A forest.  That was all that was displayed for the cameras in the brief moment before Janice Lovely said, “Let the 143<sup>rd</sup> Annual Hunger Games begin!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And then we were being raised up.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I remember the outfit,” I said to Isolde.  “But I could never remember what color shirt I wore.”</p><p>Sure enough, there I was wearing a green flannel shirt.  That was the only difference between the tributes: some had green, others had red or blue or a dark yellow.  Otherwise we were dressed identically.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The tributes all stood on the pedestals, taking in their surroundings.  There was a disproportionate amount of time focusing on me, the victor, and also on Harold.  My district partner.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>I hadn’t really forgotten him because I could remember the time we spent together in Prep Week, but I always wondered what had happened to him.  Of course, I never wanted to know.  What if I killed him?  And I had.  I did.  But I was getting ahead of myself, and I forced my attention back on the television screen.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>As soon as the gong announced the beginning of the Hunger Games, the Careers started right in for the Cornucopia.  I grabbed a sword and didn’t bother with the sheath as I charged not for the nearest non-Career tribute, but for the nearest threat.  I bypassed a few easy kills and lunged towards the District 10 female.  She didn’t know what happened until it was too late.  I knocked her to the ground and jammed my sword straight into her chest.  There was no cannon, but I didn’t need to hear it to know that she was dead.  Then I was on my feet running again.  This time, I found the District 10 male, kicked him in the back of the knee to bring him to the ground, and plunged my sword into his torso.  He screamed—the cameras picked it up his anguished cries so well—and then he was gone.  I withdrew the sword and wiped it clean on the grass before trotting back to the other Careers.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“It was a farm,” I said.  “The District 10 tributes would have an advantage.  So . . . I killed them.”</p><p>Now that I was watching this, things were starting to come back in little flickers that the television couldn’t possibly capture.  The way that I immediately assessed the situation and honed in on the tributes who would have the greatest chance of taking us down in this specific arena.  It wasn’t clear initially why I let my fellow Careers have a few easy kills while I went after these two at what seemed to be random, but once it was all said and done, it was very obvious why I chose the people I did.</p><p>Because I was a trained killer.  Just like my grandma, just like my sister.  It was more than simply offing the kids closest to you.  It had to be precise, calculated, clinical.  There was no emotion behind it.  It was all just logic.</p><p>In the end, those were the only kills I made in the bloodbath, but the announcers were crazy with comments about how clever I was and that I was so skilled at assessing the situation and reacting quickly.  Ten kids died in the bloodbath, but nobody seemed to care.  It was only how well we performed that made any difference.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The Careers stood huffing and panting.  They clapped each other on the back and congratulated one another for a job well done.  And I was one of them.  Then the camera pulled away and showed the carnage that was laid out before the Cornucopia.  Ten children, bodies twisted and bloodied and disfigured, all strewn about with blank eyes opened up to the heavens.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>There was the rush.  I remember it now.  The exhilarating rush that Europa promised me when she told me about her time in the arena.  It was a mixture between terror and sheer ecstasy, a pulse of adrenaline that kept me high as we assessed the damage.  I remember not thinking about the deaths but about the fact that I had done this amazing thing, had taken a step to fulfill my destiny, had finally done something that would bring a smile to my family’s faces.  I didn’t care about the people I just murdered because it wasn’t murder. Not to a Career in the arena.  It was part of the game.  And it wasn’t like that tribute wasn’t going to die anyhow.  If I weren’t there, someone—or something—would kill those kids.  What did it matter if it was me with my sword or if it was a muttation that would rip them apart?</p><p>“This is sick,” I said aloud.  “I didn’t think so at the time, but watching this is. . . .”</p><p>“Inhuman?” Isolde suggested.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“That’s how I felt when I watched the recap video at my presentation.  I couldn’t believe the things I did.  What an idiot I was.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The next scenes were of us sorting out what we’re going to do next.  We had to move away from the Cornucopia for them to pick up the bodies, but only just a little so that we didn’t lose our hoard.  Then the Career pack split up to hunt.  To the surprise of the Hunger Games announcer, I was not one of the ones who went out to kill.  Instead I volunteered to stay with our supplies.  Harold, my district partner, stayed with me.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t want to kill anymore,” I explained to Isolde.  “I think it was around this time I began to realize what was happening.”</p><p>“And what was that?” she asked.</p><p>“That I was so wrapped up in what I was bred and raised to do that I had done it without a second thought,” I said.  “It was instinct to go after those two tributes and kill them, more than a decision.  For the other Careers, they could determine whether they wanted to kill.  But I . . . well, I don’t want to say that I couldn’t, but it was much harder.  My body did what it did, and my brain followed.”</p><p>“You and your sisters had a very strange upbringing,” Isolde replied.  She was looking at me with concern again, but I couldn’t deny it what she said.  We were raised in a completely unhealthy manner.  I know that now.  But back then, I didn’t.  Not fully.  It was only dawning on me shortly before I was thrust into the arena and by that point, I couldn’t change a damned thing.  I was programmed to kill, and that overrode any scrap of doubt I had in my mind.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The other Careers weren’t successful in their hunt.  Meanwhile, myself and Harold went through the various things at the Cornucopia and divided it all into six bags.  These bags were made so that whenever we needed to stray from our base—either to go hunting or because we were forced away—we would never be caught empty-handed.  But the camera showed myself slipping an extra few items in my pocket, and then we also got to see Harold doing the same but without my knowledge.  There were still piles and piles of food and water and supplies, so it wasn’t like any of us would be completely without whatever we needed.  And in addition to my sword, I also chose two knives—one slipped into my boot, just like Avalon did—and a bow and arrow.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The days went by, but of course the recap showed it all sped up with only bits and pieces.  There were clips of the other tributes struggling to survive.  The cornfield contained giant black widow mutts that injected venom into wayward tributes.  Two tributes died that way, though one of them lasted three days before his internal organs turned to sludge.  The barn had rat mutts that gave tributes what appeared to be rabies but on steroids.  Three tributes were bitten, but none of them died directly from the disease.  Instead it seemed to give them super strength and an endless supply of energy that kept them going day and night until they either withered away due to dehydration or because another tribute managed to kill them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>One of those tributes who was bitten was the District 2 girl.  She turned on the Careers and killed both from District 4.  I killed her with a single shot from my bow.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t a mercy kill.  It looked like it, but it wasn’t.  I could see that there was something wrong with her within hours after she was bitten, but I told no one.  Instead I offered to take first watch so that I could continue to keep an eye on her.  When it was the District 4 boy’s turn for watch, I laid down and pretended to sleep.  That was when the District 2 girl went insane and started to try to rip people’s throats out with her teeth.  She successfully tore open the trachea of the District 4 girl where she slept, and the District 4 boy put up a bit of a struggle, but she slammed him into a tractor a few times until the cannon fired.</p><p>At that point, I was a good distance from her, but Harold and the District 2 boy were much closer.  It was only a few days into the Hunger Games, and I still need allies.  If she killed the other two, it would put me at a distinct disadvantage.  I could have disposed of her the moment she pounced on the District 4 girl, but I hadn’t.  Instead I allowed her to eliminate some of the competition for me.  And then I killed her before she could wipe out all of the alliance.</p><p>So cold.  So clinical.  Such a master in the arena.</p><p>
  <em>There was another muttation within the farm house.  Everything looked safe and cozy in this two-story home filled with all sorts of food, warm beds, a stove—all the things that would keep you comfortable in the cool nights that were a touch too chilly unless you knew how to bundle up against the light breeze.  The three of us remaining Careers decided that this would be our place.  We chased out another tribute who had just claimed the place as his own, and perhaps it was good for him that he wasn’t there when night fell.  Because when the shadows lengthened and the world plunged into the darkness, that was where the hell began.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I woke up from my sleep and heard the footsteps in the hallway.  The District 2 boy was supposed to be watching.  I crept over to the door and slowly, ever so slowly, opened it up.  But it wasn’t the District 2 tribute—it wasn’t a tribute at all.  Instead it was a tall man with a lumbering gait. His back was towards me, but the moment he heard the door creak open, he turned around.  Red eyes glared at me from a twisted, oozing face.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He was human in stature, but his face—oh his face!  I recoiled watching it and had to keep from burying my head in my hands.  This was what haunted my nightmares!  This is what kept me awake at night.  That disgusting, wretched face, its features distorted and melted, like they were sliding down his skull.  Isolde’s hand tightened on mine—I didn’t even realize that she had taken my hand again—and neither of us could tear ourselves away from the screen.</p><p>“It’s the Farmer,” I muttered.  Terror seized me even as I uttered the words.  “Which means that—”</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The camera switched to a downstairs view where the District 2 male was dozing on the sofa.  He opened his eyes just in time to see an equally-disturbing figure, this time clearly female with curly hair and a flowered dress, standing over him.  He screamed, but it turned from fear into pain as the Farmer’s Wife grabbed his arm and pulled.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I couldn’t look.  I turned away because I knew what was going to happen, just as I knew my own first name.  What I could not remember now came back to me in a wave of nausea.  Even Isolde had to turn aside.  I was crying again.  The tears wouldn’t stop.  I didn’t try to make them.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Back upstairs, I slowly closed the bedroom door and waited.  Fear displayed prominently on my face.  I only managed to escape the Farmer because of the District 2 boy’s screams which had drawn his attention away from me.  Once I was no longer in his line of vision, I was forgotten.  Though the Farmer continued to pace the hallways of the house he didn’t come into my bedroom.  I once dared again to look when I could no longer hear his heavy footsteps and found that it was not the Farmer but his wife who prowled the hallways.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The camera showed Harold in an adjacent room.  Like me, he remained hidden.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The cannon fired for the District 2 boy some time during the night, though it wasn’t clear how long elapsed between when the Farmer’s Wife first found him and when he gave his last breath.  Near dawn, I dared to creep out of the room after the first rays of light began to filter through the checkered curtains onto the wooden floor.  In the distance, the rooster crowed and the Farmer and his wife disappeared.  It was then that Harold and I tread gingerly on the stairs and went down to where we last saw the District 2 boy.  He was dismembered, blood splattered across the room and soaked into the furniture.  Harold vomited onto the rug.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I turned and headed to the kitchen to salvage what we could before we left.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“If he wasn’t sleeping when he was supposed to be keeping watch, he might have made it,” I mumbled to myself.  “But we had to get out of there so the hovercraft could pick up his remains.”</p><p>Isolde didn’t answer.  There wasn’t anything to say.  The District 2 boy’s death was a horrible thing, and there was nothing he could have done to deserve to be killed that way.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>We left the farm house without hesitation after we took what we needed.  By this point, it was the seventh day, and there were only five tributes left: myself, Harold, the District 7 and 8 females, and he District 11 male.  Most of the others who survived the Bloodbath had died by muttation, whether directly or indirectly.  Like the District 9 male who was killed by one of the people who had been bitten by a “rabid” rat.  In the seventh day, however, cat muttations crawled into the barn and finished all of the rat muttations off before disappearing entirely.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>We had no way of knowing that, of course, so we avoided the barn altogether.  It seemed that whatever structure we went into held all sorts of unexpected horrors.  I remember thinking this, but I also remember telling Harold that the District 2 tributes were just not watchful enough and that’s why the muttations were able to get them.</p><p>It was the sixth day, and we were exhausted.  But you wouldn’t have known that by looking at me.  I was strong.  Fierce.  Independent.  No muttation was going to bring me down, no tribute would break my stride.  I was victor material.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Chapter 31</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>In the evening of the seventh day, myself and Harold were standing beneath the silo when all of a sudden the District 7 female staggered out from around the structure.  She had her hands up, and there was a massive wound on her neck that bled profusely and soaked into her clothing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Please, just kill me!” she begged.  “I feel it.  I feel that I’m going insane!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What happened to you?” I demanded.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“She bit me!  She bit me!  Please!  It hurts!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harold and I exchanged looks.  The camera zoomed in on the District 7 girl, and one could see that the wound on her neck was definitely a human bite, and it was also very much fresh.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“It didn’t make sense,” I said.  “She was bitten by another person and it hurt so much that she wanted to die?  We were extremely confused.”</p><p>“She was delirious,” said Isolde.  “They didn’t show it here—maybe they’ll explain that in a moment—but she began to hallucinate almost immediately after being bitten.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>“Kill her, Harold,” I ordered.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harold threw a spear that immediately sunk into her chest.  A cannon above our heads boomed.  But still we stood there for a few long moments before he walked over and removed his weapon.  The puzzled expressions on our faces illustrated that we knew something wasn’t right, but we weren’t certain what that something was.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Just then, the Farmer’s Daughter came around the silo, her face equally as twisted and melting as her parents’, though she was somehow singing a schoolyard song as she lumbered over towards us.  Blood caked her mouth and glistened on her white teeth.  She was only about four feet high, but it didn’t matter.  She was deadly.  I raised my bow and nocked an arrow.  The arrow flew through the air and landed solidly in the Farmer’s Daughter’s chest.  She kept coming.  A second arrow landed in her face.  A third in her neck.  It was the fourth one—aimed for her leg—that finally took her out.  She landed on the ground and stopped moving.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There was a clanging from the farm house—one of those triangle things you hit to call people in for dinner—and the Farmer’s Daughter heaved herself to her feet and limped back to the house.  Harold and I watched for several minutes as she tottered across the open fields towards the building.  Moments later, she vanished inside and the door closed behind her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s time to end this,” I said to Harold.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Amen to that,” he agreed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The camera now showed not just us but clips of the District 8 female and District 11 male.  Both of them nursed mild wounds, but nothing that counted them out of the running.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“They had some really messed up muttations,” Isolde breathed as the screen darkened for a brief moment as it transitioned to the eighth day.</p><p>“They’re still in my head.  At night.  In my dreams,” I explained.  “I never knew why they were there, but sometimes I can’t sleep at all.”</p><p>“I don’t imagine you’ll be able to sleep for several days after watching this,” Isolde said.  “I know I sure as hell won’t, and I wasn’t even there.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>In the morning of the eighth day, Harold and I went hunting for the other tributes.  We found the District 11 male easily enough, but he put up a fight and it required both of us to corner him.  Once more, I allowed my district partner to make the kill.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Nobody understood that,” Isolde said.  “Why you kept letting Harold kill other tributes.”</p><p>“It was easier for me to kill than it was to not kill,” I whispered.  It didn’t make sense, but I tried to explain it in words: “Killing was instinct in the arena, but to withhold from making the final blow was something of a challenge.  It’s entirely backwards.  You’d think that it would be hard for me to kill and easy for me to back out, but it wasn’t.”</p><p>“I think because you established yourself so well in the bloodbath and didn’t back away from killing when it was absolutely necessary—like with the District 2 girl—that nobody lost their confidence in you,” Isolde said.  “It was just weird.  Most Careers want to rack up as many kills as they can.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>The ninth day dawned, and once more, we immediately set out to find the last remaining tribute.  Through fields we slogged as we tried to hunt down the District 8 girl.  She was clever and kept slipping away from us, but she never really left entirely.  Finally we chased her out of the fields and into the large clearing near the farm house.  She tried to run to find somewhere to hide, but there was nowhere to go.  Harold and I honed in on her, and this time I was the one who made the kill.  I sprinted the last hundred yards and caught up with the girl.  She turned just in time to see the sword pierce into her body.  Her gurgled cries for help went unanswered.  By the time I withdrew the sword, she was dead and the cannon fired.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then I turned around to face Harold.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Isabella, if you need us to stop at any time—”</p><p>“I killed her because I wanted the adrenaline rush so I could take on Harold,” I interrupted her.  “Not just so that I would have the strength to kill him but so that I would have that high—so that I would enjoy it.  As I thought I needed to.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>Harold had a spear, but I quickly disarmed him with my sword.  He had a knife, but I sliced his hand and the weapon clattered to the ground.  He picked up a rock, but I jabbed him in the stomach.  It was going to be a quick battle.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Except that somewhere in the frenzy I had dropped my bow.  Harold saw it.  Grabbed it.  I moved in on him and slashed him in the chest.  A critical hit.  But he wasn’t going to give up that easily.  As my sword went into his flesh, he leaned in, grabbed an arrow out of my quiver, and fell back.  For a moment, it looked like I was going to be winner.  I moved in for the final blow.  Harold, body trembling and barely able to move as blood gushed out of his open wounds, nocked the bow and aimed it right at me.  It was all so quick and close range that I didn’t have time to move.  The arrow sunk into my chest.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I fell to the ground.  My body trembled and I opened my mouth to speak.  Blood dribbled from my lips.  But then I lay motionless.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A cannon boomed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Several seconds seemed to pass as everything began to register on Harold’s face.  Then came Janice Lovely’s voice: “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce the victor of the 143<sup>rd</sup> Annual Hunger Games: Harold—”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But she didn’t finish before Harold fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>I couldn’t tear myself away from this scene.  I couldn’t stop watching my own lifeless body lying there on the ground.  I died.  I really, truly, honestly died.  How the hell did that happen?  How the hell did they bring me back?  Harold and I, lying there on the grass only feet apart.  His chest heaved as he struggled to remain conscious.  And I was motionless.  I was dead.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Chapter 32</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The hovercraft appeared in the sky above our heads, but rather than sending down a ladder, it came down low next to us.  When it was only a few feet off the ground, the hatch opened and a team of medics rushed out.  They began to triage Harold right there in the field, and they carted me away on a stretcher.  Moments later, Harold was also taken into the hovercraft.  Seconds passed, the hovercraft lifted up into the air, and then it vanished.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The screen darkened.  Seconds later, it showed the announcer’s room at the news station.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“This is just unbelievable,” said Janice Lovely, a woman in her early fifties.  She sat behind the desk completely put together and professional.  By her side was Caligula Klora, the Hunger Games interviewer.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Has anything like this ever happened before?” asked Caligula.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Never.  Entirely unprecedented,” replied Janice.  “This is certainly a first in the history of the Hunger Games.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Can you tell the viewers at home exactly what is going on?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Janice shook her head, but she said, “I don’t know if I understand it myself.  Harold of District 1 collapsed before the hovercraft could carry him away, and I am getting reports as we speak that he is in critical condition.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“As in we may not have a victor this year?” asked a confused Caligula.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Janice remained stunned.  She was reading something on her desk in a small panel.  “The newest report—this is what I am receiving right now—is that Harold may not be our winner this year.  Our victor may actually be Isabella.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Neither of them said anything for a minute.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“How is that possible?” Caligula finally broke the silence.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We will be turning to our experts to answer these questions,” Janice said with a bit of relief.  She smiled at the camera.  “Hang on, ladies and gentlemen.  In this entirely wild turn of events, we will keep you updated.  In the meantime, let’s go to Dr. Blossom for more details.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The camera flicked away and showed a solemn woman in her thirties in some sort of laboratory setting.  The words DR. LACY BLOSSOM, SENIOR HUNGER GAMES DOCTOR appeared at the bottom of the screen.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“A team of elite medical staff are assessing the situation and have everything under control,” came Dr. Blossom’s clear voice.  “Unfortunately at this time, I cannot comment on Harold Hope’s status, but we will let you know the moment we have any more information.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Dr. Blossom,” came Janice’s voice.  “Can you comment on the possibility of Isabella Vitner becoming victor?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I cannot,” said Dr. Blossom.  “I can assure you that Harold is receiving the best care possible and we will keep the viewers at home informed about the situation.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The camera returned to the Hunger Games announcer and interviewer.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Thank you, Dr. Blossom,” said Janice.  Then she addressed the audience at home, “It appears that Harold Hope and Isabella Vitner are continuing their battle outside of the arena.  Unfortunately this is not a fight we’re privy to watch.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The screen darkened again, and some time passed.  It was not clear how long, but both Janice and Caligula were wearing different outfits when the camera focused on them once more.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The official reports are in,” said Janice.  “Harold Hope has passed away.  Isabella Vitner of District 1 is the victor of the 143<sup>rd</sup> Annual Hunger Games.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“This has been a wild ride,” Caligula said with some relief.  “But Isabella earned it.  Her performance in the area was absolutely stunning.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yes it was,” agreed Janice.  “And now she will be able to join her sister as victor.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Now the camera showed an ecstatic Europa being ushered through a crowd of people at the front of the city hospital.  She was beaming, and pure happiness glistened in her eyes.  Reporters surrounded her, but beyond them were hundreds and hundreds of people packed into the streets and alleys in front of the hospital waiting for an update.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Europa!” cried out one reporter. “What do you have to say about your sister being declared victor in this manner?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Isabella is a fighter,” Europa replied.  “Even death cannot stop her from victory.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Do you think that she stole her victory from her district partner?” asked another reporter.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Absolutely not.  She earned this,” Europa answered.  “And I hope nobody has the nerve to say that to her face after the fight she showed us in the arena.  I am proud of her.  Just as I am proud to be not just her mentor but her big sister.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then the people by her side ushered her away amid the cries and questions of various reporters pressing in against her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>We were now shown the night of the presentation of the victor. The stage was decorated with glittering curtains pulled back to the side.  A large throne studded with tiny diamonds was poised in the middle of the stage.  Slowly the team was introduced as the crowd cheered wildly: my escort, Mildred; my stylist, Ellen; my mentor, Europa.  Finally the crowd hushed.  And then there I was, being raised up through the floor, and the crowd was silent until they could see me in full.  I took one step off the pedestal onto the stage, and the audience went absolutely crazy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The screen darkened and the program ended.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Isolde and I sat in silence for several minutes.</p><p>That was what happened.  That was my Hunger Games.  That was what I survived.  I took a deep breath.  But before I could say anything, Isolde was speaking:</p><p>“They say that there were so many muttations that year because they wanted to make things interesting and not just have you plow through all of the tributes,” she said.  “But the creatures were so terrible that kids in the Capitol were getting nightmares from them.”</p><p>If I were not so jumbled with thoughts, I might have laughed at that.</p><p>“In some ways, the situation with you and Harold saved the Gamemaker’s asses,” Isolde continued.  “Because it distracted people from the muttations and left them with a sense of excitement, not horror.  There is actually an edited version that tones down the Farmer and his family so that kids can watch without pissing themselves.  So fucked up.”</p><p>“Do you think Europa actually meant all that?” I asked suddenly.</p><p>Isolde’s expression changed to one of sympathy. “Oh, she totally did,” she assured me.  “She stayed by your bed in the hospital night and day.  That scene they showed there—they had to force her to leave you for the sake of the cameras.  As soon as they took her out and got her into a car, they drove her to the backside of the hospital and let her out again.”</p><p>I stared at the blank television screen.  Not remembering this all might have saved me pain, but it did nothing to help my sister.  In fact, I inadvertently caused her misery by appearing entirely ungrateful for her dedication to me.  I can’t excuse the way she is treating me now, but perhaps things would have been different between us if I had remembered this all.</p><p>“I don’t want to forget again,” I said.  “I don’t want to not remember this.”</p><p>Even though I so desperately wished to be in the dark and not have to relive this horror, I knew that I had to face reality.  The truth.  My truth.  Our truth.</p><p>“You won’t,” Isolde said.  “I won’t let you.”</p><p>I smiled at her, but it was a heavy one with sadness behind it.  “Thank you.  Thank you for helping me.”</p><p>She nodded.  “Of course, Isabella.  No matter what our upbringing was, no matter what we did in the arena—we don’t deserve all of this.  And there is no way we’re going to get through life if we ignore each others’ pain.”</p><p>“Yeah,” I said quietly.</p><p>“Branch out and meet other victors.  District 1 isn’t the only place out there, and we’re not the only one with issues.”</p><p>“Cassiopeia—” I started.  But then I couldn’t think of what I wanted to say.</p><p>“She’s struggling, isn’t she?” Isolde asked.</p><p>“It’s her first year.  Elijah isn’t there,” I explained unnecessarily.</p><p>“She can’t be left to fend for herself.”</p><p>“No, she can’t.”</p><p>Our conversation dissolved into silence for a few moments before I stood up.</p><p>“I need to go home,” I said.</p><p>“You’re welcome to stay here,” Isolde replied.  “You’re always welcomed here.”  But she stood up and followed me to the door.</p><p>“I think I need some space right now,” I apologized.</p><p>“Yeah, totally,” she agreed.  She understood.  Isolde hugged me goodbye.  “If you’re struggling, come back here.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>That is it.  That is the story of me.  That is what I had forgotten.  My hand hurts but I’ve ignored the pain so that I could get this all down on paper before I tried to pretend none of it exists.  Now that I have it in writing, I know that I cannot—should never—escape from it all again no matter how hard my brain tries to shut it out.</p><p>I died.  I brought shame on my family.  Like Augustus, I wasn’t strong enough to make it through the trials given me.  There is no picture of me standing triumphant on the battle field with a sword in my hand and a quiver of arrows on my back.  The final image of me in the arena wasn’t a wounded and weary young woman whose image would be hung on walls and shown in text books.  No, the last shot the cameras captured of me in the arena was the corpse of a girl.  Dead.  Forgotten.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Mom, I am a victor.  Why do you ignore me and praise Europa?  I did what she did.  I survived like she survived.  I, too, have brought honor to the family name.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Isabella, you know why.  Europa deserves to be a victor.”</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Chapter 33</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It comes as no surprise to me that I couldn’t sleep last night.  I tossed and turned in bed, the images of the melting-faced muttations merging with the voices of the Hunger Games announcer and interviewer.  Everything melded together in a spectacularly wretched nightmare from which I couldn’t escape.</p><p>I tried to catch up on what was happening to Avalon in her arena—not a whole lot, thank heavens—but my brain wouldn’t focus on anything.  All I could think was of my own time in the arena as I tried to unravel the confusing thoughts that barraged my brain.  This, of course, only made me feel bad that I couldn’t put my energy into watching my little sister and hoping that she is strong enough to return home.</p><p>It’s the fourth day.  After Tori’s death yesterday, nothing of great importance happened.  I don’t think I can write much more today because my hand hurts so badly, but I also can’t sit here and ruminate in my thoughts.  I am not prepared to face Europa now that I know the truth, so I think I’ll go to the park a few blocks from here and try to clear my brain with some fresh air.  It’s barely dawn, and I doubt there will be many people there.</p><p> </p><p>At the park, I sat in one of the swing sets like I used to when I was a little kid.  For awhile, I just allowed the morning breeze to gently push me back and forth, but then I gathered the courage to push off from the ground with the soles of my shoes and start pumping my legs back and forth.  I swung higher and higher.  With the wind rushing passed me and the thrill of doing something so dumb and simple again, my thoughts drifted away.  I closed my eyes and allowed myself to exist in the moment with nothing but the creaking of the swing keeping rhythm.</p><p>I almost missed Cassiopeia standing against the swing set support bars, but once she caught my attention out of the corner of my eye, I slowed down and dragged my feet against the sand.</p><p>“Hey,” I said.</p><p>“Is this how you spend your time?” she asked.</p><p>I didn’t answer directly.  Instead I said, “You look terrible.”</p><p>She shrugged, then walked over and sat in the swing next to me.  “Can’t sleep.  Can’t eat.  Keep wondering how long before my tribute dies.”</p><p>“I know the feeling,” I replied.</p><p>She studied me for a moment as I finally slowed to a near stop.  “What’re you so happy about?  Avalon’s not out of there yet.”</p><p>“I’m not happy,” I said.</p><p>“Yes you are.  At least you don’t look nearly as miserable as you did all the other times I’ve seen you.”</p><p>Did I look miserable before?  Do I look happy now?</p><p>I wondered if being on the swing had somehow released some of the anxiety within me, but I knew that this supposed happiness (perhaps that wasn’t the best word to describe it) came from finally knowing the truth.  There was a weight lifted off me, that was for certain; perhaps that sudden decrease in pressure on my body and mind had manifested itself as something akin to happiness.  But it was far from a complete freedom from everything weighing heavily within me.  All the secrets I was holding—to many secrets—were piling up and up and up.  Pressure was increasing.  I was freed from one, but surely the others would soon take up its space.</p><p>“I finally remembered my Hunger Games,” I blurted out because I couldn’t keep it within me any longer.  “I had forgotten.  All of it was gone ever since I left the arena.”</p><p>Cassiopeia stared at me.  She looked around us and mumbled something I couldn’t hear before she turned back and set her eyes on me once more.</p><p>“How do you forget your Hunger Games and where do I sign up?” she asked.</p><p>I shook my head.  “It wasn’t a good thing.  I literally forgot everything that happened.  But now I remembered them.”</p><p>Why was I telling her this?  I was so worried about Europa finding out—about anyone finding out, actually—that I had sworn Isolde to secrecy.  And now I was blabbing it to Cassiopeia in the middle of a park.  Albeit a deserted park, but who knew what ears were listening.</p><p>“And remembering makes you happy?” she asked skeptically.  She swiped her long red hair behind her shoulder and pushed off the ground so that the swing moved a few inches.</p><p>“It’s so stupid.  I had forgotten and I was afraid to remember again,” I tried to explain.  But I knew that it made no sense to other people.  “I don’t know why.”</p><p>“Oh,” Cassiopeia said.  “Wait, you’re the one who died, right?”</p><p>“Yeah.  Except I had forgotten that.  See?  Stupid.”</p><p>“Not stupid,” she replied with an air of authority.  “You probably lost oxygen to your brain.  Surprised you aren’t more brain damaged.”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>She shrugged.  “Sorry, but it’s true.  I guess the Capitol has technology that far exceeds our expectations in District 5.  Actually, I’m really surprised that more victors aren’t messed up like that.”</p><p>“We are all messed up,” I told her.  “Have you met anyone else?”</p><p>“Not like traumatized ‘messed up,’” she said.  “But in other ways.”</p><p>“I think the Capitol can repair most of the physical issues.”  There are many victors who have lost limbs or needed organs replaced or had to have major surgeries.  With the exception of Elijah, of course, who the Capitol never fixed for whatever demented reasons they have.  “It’s just that they recover well and nobody really sees it.”</p><p>“Nobody sees it,” she mumbled to herself.  Then, “No, I’ll say it.  Don’t tell me not to.”</p><p>I raised an eyebrow at her.  “What?”</p><p>She turned to me.  “My brain’s messed up, too.  I hear voices—well, one voice.  Ever since my time in the arena.  It—he—speaks to me and tells me what to say and do.  We don’t always agree, though, and I do whatever I want.”</p><p>She had my full attention.  I was fascinated.  Never before had I heard another victor say anything like that.  We all knew about the physical traumas that were healed with medicine and physical therapy and the psychological traumas that were ignored and pushed under the rug, but I hadn’t known that there were others like me who were messed up in invisible ways that we had to keep hidden.</p><p>“What happens if you do what the voice says?  Do you start killing people?”</p><p>Cassiopeia huffed.  “I started killing people even before I heard the voice,” she said stubbornly.  “No, he just gets annoyed.  It’s really not like some crazy fantastical thing that drives me to do weird stuff.  It’s like I have a person always over my shoulder talking to me.  He’s pretty reasonable.  But if you tell anyone—”</p><p>“I won’t,” I promised. “And with me not remembering things—that’s not exactly something out in the open.”</p><p>“Got it,” she said.  Then she mumbled, “See it wasn’t that bad.”</p><p>“Does it . . . help you mentor?” I asked.  Wouldn’t that be strange to have two people secretly mentoring?  Not that the Capitol really cares if you have co-mentors as long as one of them is the official mentor.</p><p>She snorted.  “Does it matter?  Is there really an advantage to that?”</p><p>“No, guess not,” I replied.</p><p>“It’s weird what the brain goes through,” Cassiopeia said.  “Back home—back before I went to the arena—I wanted to be a doctor.  I don’t think that’s going to happen now.”</p><p>“I wanted to go to university,” I explained.  “But I ended up postponing it to go to the Hunger Games and I never ended up pursuing my education.  You wanted to know why I volunteered, it’s because that’s what I was raised to do.  My entire life revolved around it.  I ate, slept, and lived the Hunger Games from the very moment I was born.  It was so engrained in me that doing anything else was secondary.  So even though I had desires to do other things, it all had to be put on hold to go to the arena.  But maybe someday soon I’ll go back to university.”</p><p>“You can do that?” she asked with surprise as she sat up straighter.  For the first time, I see something akin to hope in her eyes.</p><p>“Yeah.  Isolde did,” I said.  “She’s currently in classes here in the Capitol.  There are more things offered here than in District 1.”</p><p>The morning light was coming over the horizon, and the first few people began to crawl out from their homes and go about their day.  So far, no one took notice of us here at the park.  I supposed they thought that we were a couple of Capitolite teenagers who had been awake all night and would drag ourselves back to our beds soon enough.</p><p>“Wow,” Cassiopeia breathed.  “I’m going to have to look into this.  Everyone told me . . . that I was completely . . . oh, nevermind.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” I assured her.</p><p>She pursed her lips for a moment as though trying to decide if she should continue.  Or, perhaps, she was listening to the voice in her head tell her what to do.  But finally she said, “Everyone told me that going to the Hunger Games was a waste of my brain.  When they saw me off at the justice building, I think they were sadder to see my brain leave than me, you know?  And then when I got back, it was like everyone had given up on me.  No longer had the laboratory access I once had, the internships I had lined up fell through, everything was gone.”</p><p>“You should check with Isolde about how to go back to school,” I said.</p><p>She gave me a look.</p><p>“Really, she’s not that bad,” I reassured her.  “She’s one of the nicest people I know.  And she’s friends with several non-Career victors, like Juniper of District 7 and Esther of District 8.”</p><p>She gave me a small smile and nodded.  “Yeah, I’ll look into that.  But—”</p><p>At that moment, Cassiopeia’s tribute monitoring device on her wrist began to vibrate.  She jumped out of her swing and stared at it.  But after a moment, she said, “My tribute tripped and fell.  Only lost 1%.  Still . . . I should probably get back to the mentoring room.”</p><p>We said our goodbyes and I watched as she wandered away.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Chapter 34</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s evening of the fourth day and I have been sitting in front of the television watching Avalon in the arena.  I see things differently now.  I understand that Avalon isn’t alone in being a completely different person in the arena because I was, too.  Until yesterday, if you had told me that I was cold and heartless to the other tributes, I would have thought that you were very mistaken.  I wouldn’t have doubted that I might <em>appear</em> that way, but to actually <em>be</em> heartless was another matter.</p><p>But I had been.  I cannot deny it now.  And I can better respect what Avalon has done to get ahead of the others.  After two sisters who went before her, she had to be more creative because everyone would already have known the Vitner tricks from previous years.  Misleading tributes by feeding them false information about each other was pretty creative.  I wonder which one of my sisters thought that one up.</p><p>“Time to start killing tributes,” Avalon announced earlier today while Jessica was repacking her bag.</p><p>The District 9 girl stopped and stared up at her ally.  She looked like she was about to say something but then simply shook her head, slung her bag on her back, and stood up.</p><p>“There are ten tributes left, including us,” Avalon said to her as they began walking.  “Four of them are the other Careers.  That leaves four others not including us.”</p><p>“What’s your plan?” Jessica asked hesitantly.  I could see that she was trying to not rock the boat but wasn’t thrilled about actively hunting other tributes.</p><p>“I’ll tell you in a bit,” Avalon replied.  Right.  An important rule about the Hunger Games: never divulge your plan.  Because if the other tributes don’t use it against you, the Gamemakers will.</p><p>However, there wasn’t much chance for them to put any plan into action because they both came to a halt at the same time.</p><p>“Fire,” whispered Jessica.</p><p>“A big one,” Avalon agreed.</p><p>For those of us watching at home, we were treated to a view of a raging wildfire tearing through half of the arena.  It hadn’t gotten close to Avalon and Jessica, but the smoke was thickening by the second.  It was only a matter of time before the fire consumed the entire forest, taking out any tribute in its path.  From where they stood, however, they weren’t certain where the fire was coming from.</p><p>“Which direction?” asked Jessica.  She turned around and surveyed their surroundings.  “It probably wasn’t from where we came.  But maybe I’m wrong.  It could be—”</p><p>“Shhh!” Avalon hissed.  She peered into the forest, twisting around so she could see in all directions.  Then there came a small noises from the dried pine needles around them which grew more frantic by the moment.  From above their heads, birds cawed and screeched, drawing the tributes’ attention.  Then squirrels and chipmunks, lizards and rabbits began to burst through the forest, running as fast as their little legs could take them.</p><p>“Follow the animals!” Jessica cried.</p><p>The two of them began to run.  Legs pumping, chests heaving, they forced themselves to run as fast as they could for as long as they could.  The forest around them was alive with the scurrying of little creatures trying to get ahead of the smoke and ultimately the flames.  Deer ran by them, and so did the occasional coyote.  None of the animals paid them any heed, and it was up to Avalon and Jessica to avoid being trampled by anything larger or stepping on anything smaller.</p><p>The smoke grew thicker around them despite how fast they ran.  It clouded their vision and choked their lungs.  Jessica tripped, but Avalon grabbed onto her, dragged her to her feet, and forced her to keep running.  You could see that they were getting hotter, too; they gasped for breath and their faces dripped with a crazy amount of sweat.  Finally the fire was behind them, only a quarter mile away; you could see it between the trees as it gobbled up anything in its path.</p><p>Just when it looked like Avalon and Jessica would be consumed by the flames, the forest opened and there was a large lake.  Already animals were plunging into it, and the tributes followed suit.  They splashed through the water without regard for how deep it was or what other tributes were here.  Avalon shrugged off her bag and left it in the shallows; Jessica, upon seeing this, did the same.  Then they continued into the water as it lapped about their bodies.  It was only when they were both far enough in to have to tread water that they turned around and watched the flames bear down on the shoreline.  Coughing and gagging from the smoke, they swam out as far as they dared. </p><p>“Did you hear that?” Jessica panted.  “Cannons!”</p><p>“How many?” Avalon demanded.</p><p>Jessica shook her head.  “Couldn’t tell.  At least two.”</p><p>They would have to wait for the anthem at night to know for certain how many tributes died.  But in the meantime, they needed to focus on their surroundings.</p><p>Flames licked the edge of the forest, running up the dry bark of the trees and gobbling up the needles.  The forest floor was a blanket of flames, and anything that hadn’t splashed out into the lake or found another way to escape was most certainly dead.</p><p>The fire eventually died out or receded—it was hard to tell which—and at last Avalon and Jessica trudged to shore.</p><p>There was this thing that our trainer liked to make us do in which we’d have to go out into a lake and tread water until we couldn’t do it any longer.  “What would happen if your arena didn’t have any land?” he’d demand as we’d struggle to stay afloat after our arms ached and our chests heaved.  When we were good at treading water for extended periods of time, he’d make us wear backpacks or jackets or put rocks in our pockets.  Then he’d have us do it for longer.</p><p>I thought of this as they struggled towards their bags and then onto the shore.  Jessica flopped down, too weary to move.  But Avalon remained on her feet.  She immediately dug into her bag and pulled out chunks of water-logged meat.</p><p>“Eat,” she ordered her ally.  Jessica reluctantly took a piece of rabbit, but she didn’t eat it until she saw Avalon chewing on her own chunk of rabbit.  “We lost a lot of energy out there, so we need to regain it.”</p><p>“Avalon—look!” Jessica pointed out across the shore, about a hundred yards to the west.</p><p>Avalon turned around to see a couple of tributes burst out of the forest and collapse into the shallows.  She watched them for several seconds before she told Jessica, “Stay here.  I’ll go check it out.”</p><p>Leaving behind her bag, she took a knife in each hand—casually, each one partially hidden—and headed over towards the other two tributes.  They didn’t see her coming until she had come to a stop several yards away.  The District 7 female and District 10 male scrambled to their feet as they struggled to find footholds on the cobbly rocks beneath them.</p><p>With one flick of the knife, the District 7 female was dead and the cannon above boomed.  Avalon shifted the other knife into her dominant hand.  The District 10 male began to run, but she sent this knife into his calf so that he fell on the ground.</p><p>“I really don’t like to knife people in the back,” she muttered to him as she walked over.  He turned over and tried to lash out with his own weapon, a sharpened cleaver.  But Avalon simply dodged it, disarmed him, and slit his throat.  He gurgled on his own blood for a moment, the gentle waves of the lake washing away the red from his skin as it gushed out.  But then the cannon fired once more.  Avalon removed both their bags, gathered the weapons, and pushed the bodies out towards the middle of the lake.</p><p>Then she began to slowly walk back towards an absolutely stunned Jessica.  Once she reached her ally, she tossed the bags down and cleaned the blood off of herself in the lapping waters.</p><p>Sitting back on her haunches, she pulled open one bag, searched through it, and then did the same for the other.</p><p>That night, there are four faces in the sky: Edric, Lukas, the District 7 girl, and the District 10 boy.  What Avalon didn’t see was that the wounds inflicted on Edric and Lukas by the District 5 boy slowed them down so that they were not able to escape the fire.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Chapter 35</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The morning of the fifth day, and there are six tributes left: Avalon, both from District 4, the females from Districts 5 and 8, and Jessica.  After I dressed and ate, I headed to the training center.  I didn’t want to, but I also knew that I had to make an appearance for Avalon.  I couldn’t let people think that I had left Europa behind to take care of everything.</p><p>When I get there, I found Europa in the mentoring room with Gill and Fjord (both of whom are working together and paying her little heed), Cassiopeia, Esther, and Jenna.  Cassiopeia gave me a small wave, which I returned with a smile.  Then I pulled over a chair and sat next to my sister.</p><p>It was difficult to sit there and not tell her about the last few days I experienced.  But at the same time, it was a relief because I wouldn’t even know where to begin.  I found that I couldn’t talk much which wasn’t too big of an issue since Europa wasn’t in the mood to listen to me anyhow.  She and Jenna were going over things with their tributes, trying to determine what gift to send them.  Avalon had acquired quite a bit of money—more than I’ve seen any tribute have—but Europa felt that there wasn’t much use in sending her anything.  She wanted to hang onto it in case there was something else that Avalon required down the road.  After all, our little sister was perfectly capable of finding her own food in the woods.</p><p>“Maybe not now because everything has been burned down, though,” Europa sighed as she entered in some information in her keyboard.  After a few minutes, a parachute drifted down to the girls and revealed a big, hearty breakfast.  They immediately divvied it up and began to chow down.</p><p>But Avalon wasn’t the only one with a fair amount of sponsor gifts.  When she told Jessica that she was going to scout the place out and left the District 9 girl on the banks of the lake, the District 9 mentor, Jenna, went straight to work.</p><p>With horror, I watched as she chose one of the absolutely most expensive items that she could afford—a few drops of poison in a small vial—and sent it directly to Jessica so that she would receive it while Avalon was away.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Europa, but I have to give my tribute a chance,” Jenna said apologetically when my sister turned and glared at her.  “She would never stand a chance against Avalon if it came down to weapons.”</p><p>In the arena, Jessica received the package and her mouth dropped open the moment she opened it up.  She looked around quickly for Avalon and, when she didn’t see her, she tucked the poison into a pocket, and took the parachute and wrapper out into the lake where she tied a rock into it and sunk it to the bottom.</p><p>“What’s wrong with you?” Avalon demanded when she returned minutes later and found Jessica shifting around uneasily.</p><p>Jessica shrugged.  “Just getting antsy, I guess.  What did you find?”</p><p>Avalon studied her for a moment.  Then she said, “Only part of the forest has been destroyed.  We’ll have to go through the burned section first, but then we can continue into the other part to make sure that we find plenty of food.  And possibly more tributes.”</p><p>Jessica stood up, pulled her bag onto her back (now filled with some of the supplies from the tributes Avalon killed last night), and said, “What happens when we find the District 4 tributes.  You’re going to be able to take them down?”</p><p>“I don’t see why not,” Avalon replied.  The two of them started walking away from the lake.</p><p>Europa, however, was fuming.  She said nothing to Jenna, but words weren’t needed.  Jenna kept giving her uneasy looks as though she were worried Europa would start freaking out on her.</p><p>But then I remembered something.  Something from my time in the arena.  Something that connected with what just happened.</p><p>“Europa?  Can I have a minute?” I asked.  “Privately?”</p><p>My sister stood up wordlessly and I followed her out the door and into the hallway.  She paced uneasily for several steps before she turned to me and gave me her attention.</p><p>“Jessica just slipped that poison in her pocket, right?” I began.  Europa looked at me like I was dumb.  Of course she did.  Anyone could see it.  But that wasn’t my point.  Because I remembered something that I had done in the arena—what other tributes hadn’t seen when Harold and I were left to defend the Cornucopia on that first day.  “Check older footage.  Jessica might have slipped the antidote that Tori needed into her pocket before she even met up with Avalon.”</p><p>“Why would she do that?” Europa demanded with annoyance.  I know she was probably irritated that I had pulled her away for this.</p><p>“Because it’s valuable.  She saw what happened to Tori—or at least I’m sure that she heard someone had poisoned her—so she didn’t want to get separated from the antidote.  Just look at the older footage.  Maybe I’m wrong, but if I’m not, it might help Avalon, so what’s the harm?”</p><p>We both knew that if I were right, there would be no way to alert our sister, just as there was no way to tell her that Jessica now had poison.  But Europa also couldn’t turn down an opportunity to help Avalon—even if it wasn’t guaranteed—so she reluctantly turned away from me and headed back into the mentor room.  I trailed after her.</p><p>“Move,” she said to Jenna as she got to their chairs.</p><p>Jenna raised her eyebrows but did as she was told and headed back to District 9.  Europa motioned me to sit down.</p><p>It took a few minutes to go back through footage from Day 1 and follow Jessica after she left the bloodbath.  She was one of the first to leave after she had the bag—it was placed strategically near her, but also close enough so that the District 2 male could have seen her grab it if he had paid attention—and she put as much distance as she possibly could between herself and the Cornucopia before her legs gave out and she flopped on the ground.  But sure enough, as she went through the bag with all the medical supplies, she pulled out not one but two vials of antidote and slipped one into each pocket.</p><p>“That clever little bi—” Europa started.</p><p>“She also has some burn cream,” I pointed to the screen where she slipped a small tube of cream into her sock.  The tube and vials were tiny—maybe even smaller than a tube of chapstick—and were easily concealed in the clothing.  She didn’t dare take anything else out.  Bandages would be too bulky and pills would only make too much noise.  But she had the antidote the entire time.</p><p>“Do you think it’s the antidote to the same poison that Jenna just sent her?” I asked.</p><p>“Let’s see,” Europa muttered more to herself than me.  She highlighted the items and read their description, then she flipped to the present, chose the poison, and read that one as well.  “Yeah.  Looks like the antidote will take care of several types of poisons, including the one Jessica has.”</p><p>Europa sat back in her chair and stared at the screen.</p><p>“Avalon needs to kill her,” I stated as I watched the two tributes walk through the forest together.</p><p>Europa cocked her head and eyed me for a moment, but didn’t comment on what I just said.  Instead she opened up the page for the store.</p><p>“We had anticipated that Avalon would receive a lot of sponsorships, so we devised a plan,” she said to me, her voice suddenly low.  No one was paying attention to us since they were wrapped up in their own tributes, but it would do no good to be overheard.  “I would use the money to send her gifts.  Each gift would mean something different.  Some, like the breakfast I just sent, was meaningless—aside from having nutritional properties, of course.”</p><p>“But in terms of your code. . . .”</p><p>“I have to send her something else to alert her of the danger,” Europa answered.  “The question is whether we want her to kill Jessica now or later.”</p><p>A couple days ago, I might have been repulsed at this conversation.  Not because I didn’t think it was necessary but because I thought that there might be alternatives.  But in the Hunger Games, there were no other options.  It was kill or be killed.  And watching Avalon in the arena, knowing that I had made the same instinctual moves, made me better appreciate the fact that every step must be careful and brutal.  The two parts of me were melding together: the killer Career that I had lived most of my life and the independent person who no longer wanted to be defined by her past.</p><p>It was only by merging these two that we would be able to get Avalon out of the arena alive.  Europa had known this, but she wasn’t able to reconcile the two parts of herself.  She could only flip from one to the other, and so she chose the cutthroat Career mentality.  Whether it was a conscious decision or not, I didn’t know.  It didn’t matter.</p><p>“Do you have something you can send her as a warning?  That her ally has a secret weapon?”</p><p>“Nothing specifically for poison, though, so Avalon would be expecting an extra knife or something,” Europa explained.</p><p>“How much does it cost to send her her own antidote?”</p><p>“It’s not in the store this time,” Europa said.  “Guess they figured there was enough of it in the arena—if someone knew where to look.”</p><p>I sat back in my chair and rubbed my chin, eyes still on the screen.  “If she killed Jessica now, though, she wouldn’t have anyone to use as a distraction against District 4,” I said.  “Because I assume both the Careers would be clever enough to figure out how to dodge her knives by now.”</p><p>“Well, let’s go check on them,” Europa said.  She reached over and flipped the camera back to the District 4 Careers.  They were both worn and weary, but neither of them were significantly injured.  Exhaustion and minor burns—things that would heal quickly.</p><p>We listened to the two Careers for several minutes.  We heard nothing of great importance.  Then Europa turned to me,</p><p>“Isabella, go spy on the other mentors for me,” she whispered.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“They trust you more than me.  Try to schmooze a bit and get some information from them,” she said.  It wasn’t a favor but an order.</p><p>“They’ll probably be suspicious,” I said.</p><p>“Wouldn’t hurt to try,” she replied.</p><p>I stood up and headed to the bathroom.  After a few minutes of dawdling, I came back out and flopped down in the seat next to Jenna.</p><p>“Your turn,” I muttered.  “Europa says I’m taking up too much space.”</p><p>I never considered myself an actress or a manipulator.  I was always a Career.  A Career will use any technique she can to get herself through the arena.  Some are more willing to play dirty than others, but ultimately the end goal is to kill everyone else and emerge victorious.  I thought I was above it all, but now that I knew the truth, it was clear that I wasn’t.  I never was.  What the other Career mentors had done to Avalon and Europa was, in Ferrer’s terms, despicable.  And what I was going to do could easily be perceived as the same.  But despite my reservations, I knew that I had to do it.  For Avalon.</p><p>Jenna looked at me sympathetically.  I just shrugged and looked away.  But she stood up and took her place next to Europa again.</p><p>I forced myself to stand up and walk listlessly around the room where I plopped down in the District 5 chair that James once occupied.  He was long gone since his tribute had been killed.  From here, I was able to sit next to District 4 and listen in to their conversation.  Cassiopeia smiled at me, but then she hesitated, looked curiously around her, and turned back to her own computer screen.</p><p>The District 4 mentors, Gill and Fjord, were talking between each other about what they anticipated their tributes would do.  “Go north for another mile, most likely.  Then they’ll see the stream and follow it.” And “They should probably figure out a way to get more food.”</p><p>“I thought your tribute was a hunter, Fjord,” I interjected.  “Wasn’t that how she got her training score?”</p><p>“No, not really,” he said.  “I mean, she knows how to use the bow and arrow, but her specialty is the trident.  Not really going to catch much in a forest.”</p><p>“Fish at the stream?” I suggested.</p><p>“Maybe.  She hasn’t tried yet,” he said.</p><p>“Wait, does she have a net?” Gill interrupted.  “Easy dinner if she does.”</p><p>I pretended that I wasn’t super curious about their inventories, but I honed in on the screen as Fjord pulled up the list of items on his tribute.  This sort of information was not something that was accessible by anyone but the mentor of the victor.  We could see all of the health stats and the current weaponry, but anything else—poison slipped into a pocket, whether there was a fishing net in a bag—were all things that were kept hidden.  The only way you could see others’ inventories was if the mentor gave system permissions for an ally’s mentor to access or if, like me now, you could lean over and read the screen while the mentor wasn’t expecting it.</p><p>This, by the way, is not considered good sportsmanship.  Because even though there’s an “anything goes” policy in the arena, outside of the arena for those who have all lived through that, we have unspoken rules for mentorship.</p><p>The District 4 mentors had linked their inventories so that I could identify what was on each tribute.  I stretched and settled back in my chair after seeing what I needed to see.</p><p>From down the row of computer stations, Europa stood up.  “Isabella,” she snapped.  “Outside.  Now.”</p>
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<a name="section0036"><h2>36. Chapter 36</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the hallway, Europa led me back to the District 1 apartments.  But the anger with which she had summoned me was gone.  Instead she seemed almost . . . excited.</p><p>Once we are safely within the apartment, she turned around on me.</p><p>“What did you find out?” she demanded.  She didn’t even look to see if the apartment was clear, so I poked around for a minute to ensure we were alone.</p><p>“They have no health items and very little food,” I reported at last.  “I think Edric and Lukas were carrying that stuff, or maybe they just used it all, I don’t know.  And there is no net to help them fish.  So if the District 4 tributes don’t figure out how to hunt, they’re going to be in trouble soon.”</p><p>“And be weakened,” Europa agreed.  “They may try to hunt down the other tributes right away to get their supplies.  Anything else?”</p><p>“The male has a small crossbow,” I said.  “Very tiny.  But at close range, aimed at the right spot, it could be enough.”</p><p>Europa leaned against the wall and thought about it for a moment.  I didn’t interrupt but instead wandered into the sitting room where I flopped onto the couch and turned on the television to watch the Hunger Games.  Part of me couldn’t believe that I just spied on my fellow victors, but another part of me reassured me that it was okay.  After all, it wasn’t information that I couldn’t have gathered by watching previous footage.  It would just have taken me forever to get it. And I might have missed something that the cameras didn’t pick up.  Anyway, no harm done.</p><p>At last my sister came over, sat on the opposite end of the couch, and began to fiddle with her monitoring device.  A couple minutes later, a parachute dropped down near Avalon.  She and Jessica looked at it eagerly.  Avalon picked it up and opened it to reveal an empty canteen, able to hold maybe 250 milliliters.</p><p>Jessica’s brows furrowed.  “I guess it’s always good to have plenty of water,” she said.</p><p>Avalon shrugged.  “Things get expensive in the arena,” she said.  “I’m appreciative of whatever they send me.  Next time we come across water, let’s make sure this gets filled up.”</p><p>“What does that mean?” I asked her.</p><p>“It means that the Careers—the other ones—have a secret weapon,” she said.  “Of course we can’t be more descriptive of that.  If I had sent her, say, a piece of rope or string, it would have meant that whoever she was currently with had a secret weapon.”</p><p>“Like the poison that Jessica has,” I said.</p><p>“Yes.  But she never would have guessed that there was poison, so it wouldn’t do much good, as I mentioned.”</p><p>We continued to watch the goings-on in the arena from the couch of the District 1 apartment.  There was no point in going back to the mentor room immediately.  Besides, I wondered when the last time Europa had a break.</p><p>“I’ll keep an eye on things while you shower,” I told her.</p><p>She hesitated, her eyes on the screen.  So I added, “If anything happens, I’ll tell you right away.  Keep the door open.”</p><p>“Alright, fine,” she said.  She pushed herself off the couch and headed down the hallway to her room.</p><p>I turned back to the television.  Avalon and Jessica walked through a burned section of the forest.  They wrinkled their noses and Jessica commented on how badly it smelled.  Avalon paused, shuffled through her bag, and pulled out two bandanas, one of which she offered to Jessica.  The other tribute took it, and the two of them wrapped the bandanas around the lower half of their faces to try to keep the sharp smoky smell from clogging their noses.  After about ten minutes, however, Jessica took hers off.</p><p>“Can’t breathe very well,” she said.  But she still had it in her hand.</p><p>Europa was just returning and I was filling her in when Jessica began coughing.  At first, it appeared that it was just the smoke, and she tied the bandana around her face again.  However, she couldn’t stop coughing.</p><p>“What’s going on?” I asked.</p><p>Europa checked her monitoring device.  “Jessica’s health is dropping.  Not sure why.”</p><p>We both turned back to the screen.  Avalon started to walk faster, ordering Jessica to do the same.  “We have to get out of this burned area,” she said.</p><p>One of the benefits of watching the Hunger Games from the mentoring room is that you don’t have the commentators or commercials that you do when you watch it from a regular TV.  However, in this case, it helped to have Janice Lovely telling us what is going on.</p><p>“Fires are known for their restorative properties,” she was explaining to the viewers at home as we watched Avalon speed up, Jessica trailing along behind her.  “Even though the fire burns down much of the forest, it also enables the trees to release their seeds.  In this case, however, there is a very unexpected twist: they are also releasing microscopic seeds into the air that, when breathed in, cause respiratory irritation.”</p><p>“Is that something your average tribute would know?” Caligula asked.</p><p>“Of course this particular scenario is something developed especially for the arena, but the Gamemakers cleverly used a very acrid smoke smell that is a little too pungent.  So any tribute that smelled it should, in theory, understand that something not normal was going on,” Janice explained.</p><p>They then showed other tributes.  The District 5 female was not in the burned section of the arena, so she was safe, but the District 8 girl was struggling as she coughed and heaved.  After a few moments, she began to expel colored phlegm from her lungs, and in her distress, she doubled over and tries to gasp in air.</p><p>“You see, she is doing what I think many of us would do,” Caligula said.  “But if I understand it right, what she ought to be doing is leaving the burned area like Avalon and Jessica.”</p><p>“That is correct,” said Janice.</p><p>Then the camera shows us the District 4 pair.  They covered their mouths as they coughed but since they were so close to the edge of the burned section, they were able to get out before they even realized what was going on.</p><p>It took another few minutes of walking before Avalon and Jessica were free, but even then, neither of them removed their bandanas.  The District 8 girl, by some miracle, managed to stagger out of the burned area alive.  She collapsed on the ground, heaving and gagging.  But she held on, and there was no cannon to sound her death.</p><p>“I should get back to the mentor room,” Europa said at last when things had calmed down.  She stood up and straightened out her shirt that had become rumpled while she was sitting.</p><p>“Yeah, I have to head back to my apartment,” I agreed.  I reached over and turned off the TV before standing.  We headed to the elevator and took the short ride back to the ground level.</p><p>“Isabella?” Europa said as I stepped out.</p><p>I turned around.  “Yes?”</p><p>“Sorry about what I said the other day.”  She held my gaze and in her expression I found complete sincerity.</p><p>I nodded.  But I had nothing to say that would make any sense at all, so I turned around and left.</p>
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<a name="section0037"><h2>37. Chapter 37</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sixth day, and there were still six remaining tributes.  Some of them were in not great shape.  The District 8 girl, who was caught unaware in the smoke yesterday, was at 34% health and still coughed up great globs of phlegm.  The District 5 girl had been cut in a skirmish a few days ago and had a wound that was infected, leaving her at 45% health.  Jessica was only at 78% health, but aside from coughing up a bunch of gunk—not nearly as drastically as the District 8 girl—she was still good to follow along with Avalon.</p><p>I sat on my couch and watched the morning in the arena unfold.  Everything was pretty typical and the tributes were avoiding the burned section of the forest.  However, around 11:00 AM, the Gamemakers must’ve decided that things were getting too boring.  Without warning, there was a great rumble and, starting at the northern edges of the map, a wild flood began to tear through the arena.  At first it was a great rush of water confined to the river beds.  However, within minutes it had overflowed its banks and started to ravage the landscape.  Smaller trees whose roots weren’t as deep were swept up in a thick mess of mud, water, and debris.  Rocks and stones, dead trees, logs, anything.  It all became a great wave of turmoil and death.</p><p>By the time it reached the tributes, it was clear that only the strongest would survive.  The District 8 girl was immediately drowned, though it was hard to hear her cannon over the roar of water.  The District 5 girl put up a fight and managed to stay afloat by clinging to a log, but eventually she was sucked under and a second cannon fired.</p><p>The District 4 tributes were better in their element, but even they struggled to handle water this angry, this full of spite and debris.  It was far different from the clear waters of the oceans in which they were used to swimming.  The District 4 female received a gash on her leg and nearly drowned, but she, being a strong swimmer, managed to keep her head above the water.</p><p>I perched on the edge of the couch, desperate for a glance at Avalon.  Finally, after what seemed to be hours though I know was only minutes, they showed Avalon and Jessica running from the water but eventually being swept up.  The two of them clung to a toppled tree.  Waterlogged and exhausted, they clung to the tree until it appeared they would no longer be able to hang on any longer.  But the flood showed no signs of receding.</p><p>It must have been fifteen minutes before Jessica managed to reach out and grab onto a thick branch from a tree above them.  The toppled tree on which they had been clinging jerked as she did so, and Avalon almost lost her grip.  She managed, however, to stay on.  Reaching up, she, too, grabbed onto the overhanging branch.  Since she was stronger and in better shape than Jessica, she managed to climb up before the other tribute.  As soon as she did, she turned around and helped hoist Jessica up after her.</p><p>The two of them sat there panting and gasping for air as the flood rushed beneath them.</p><p>It was nearly an hour before the floodwaters lowered.  Both sets of remaining tributes had managed to find high ground: Avalon and Jessica in a tree, and the District 4 pair on a large rock.  The flood had served its purpose, and another hour later was completely gone.</p><p>Avalon’s boots squelched in the muddy ground as she finally jumped down from the tree.  Rocks of all sizes were strewn about, as were chunks of wood and bits of other debris.  On occasion, they came across carcasses of animals as they walked.</p><p>“We need to find water because sooner or later these dead animals will contaminate all the water sources,” Avalon said.</p><p>Jessica grimaced like the last thing she wanted to do was be anywhere near water, but she nodded.  “Good thing we have that extra container.”</p><p>They had plenty of containers.  Between the original two they had gotten off the District 11 girl and the ones they had from the District 7 girl and District 10 boy, there was an abundance.  But none of them did any good empty.</p><p>“We won’t be able to make a fire until the wood dries out,” Avalon continued.  “So we’ll have to find something we can eat raw.”</p><p>“We have one MRE left,” Jessica offered.  “That has a flameless heat source and I’m sure we have a little bit of water to use for cooking.  So maybe by tomorrow things will have dried out enough.”</p><p>Avalon took in this information without a word.  It was hard to tell if she thought it was possible or not.  But at least they had something that would warm them up from the insides, especially if they were going to have to trudge around in wet clothes.</p><p>“I heard two cannons,” Avalon said.</p><p>Jessica nodded slowly.  “So did I.”</p><p>Four remaining.  There were four tributes remaining.  How long would their alliance last?</p><p>After they walked for a little bit, the two of them both came to a stop.  You could tell that neither had it in them to continue on longer.  There was a tension between them, an unspoken question.  And I’m sure that all the viewers at home, like myself, could hear that question just as well as they could.</p><p>“Why don’t you get working on dinner, and I will try to find some dry wood?” Avalon suggested as she shrugged her bag off her shoulders.  (I remember how irritating a bag could be on your body when everything was wet.  Extra weight on the bag, the soaking fabric rubbing against your skin, the weariness and unnecessary discomfort.)</p><p>Jessica nodded slowly.  “Sure.  I . . . have a lighter.  We can use that to make a fire and dry out our clothes.”</p><p>Avalon checked her body to make sure she had all her knives present, and then she began to walk.  She didn’t go far, just until she found a suitable tree to climb.  It was clear that the flood had covered a great expanse of land, and they could walk for miles without finding a dry spot.  But up high in the trees were branches that hadn’t been touched by water.  They likely weren’t good for fires and getting a flame going would be a challenge, but when there wasn’t any other option, what could you do?</p><p>Back in the clearing, Jessica closed her eyes for a moment.  The cameras focused on her as she slowly opened them and then dug out the MRE from one of the bags.  It took a bit for her to set it up and get the heater going, and then it was several more minutes to cook the pre-packaged stew.  Jessica fiddled around anxiously as she watched the heater, occasionally shooting glances into the trees.</p><p>My body tensed.  I knew what was happening even before the events unfolded onscreen.  I knew that Jessica saw this as her one opportunity to live.</p><p>“Oh, Avalon, forgive me,” she whispered as she pulled the small vial out of her pocket.  She poured the stew onto a small plate and added the drops of poison to one side.  For a moment, it appeared that she might start crying, but she composed herself right as Avalon was entering the clearing with an arm full of branches and leaves.  Avalon tossed the branches in a heap next to them.</p><p>“Here you go,” Jessica said as she scooped a big helping of the stew from her plate onto a second one.  She made sure to choose the side that she had put the poison on, but by sharing one plate initially, it appeared that they were both eating the same food and there would be absolutely no reasons to suspect that part of it might be tainted.</p><p>Maybe Avalon would have been more suspicious if she hadn’t been spending so much time around Jessica and started to trust her.  Maybe she would have been more suspicious if Jessica were a Career.  But no, she took her portion and sat down on top of her backpack to keep her off the sopping ground.</p><p>Tears brimmed in my eyes.  No, no, no, no!  Please!  I wanted to scream, but my voice was stuck in my throat.  And what would be the point of screaming anyhow?  Avalon would not hear me.  Europa!  She could do something!  I knew that she was watching right now, but I felt like I should go to her anyhow.  Yet I couldn’t tear myself away from the television.</p><p>And then, as Avalon was about to take a bite, a parachute drifted down from the trees.  The two tributes looked at it, but Jessica’s attention kept turning back to the plate as she, no doubt, willed Avalon to begin eating.</p><p>Avalon reached over and took the package.  Carefully she unwrapped it to reveal a simple roll of bread.</p><p>Bread.  The one item that was always guaranteed to be available in the store.  The one item that was almost always affordable, even when the prices were ridiculous.</p><p>Avalon set down the bread, stood up, and drew out her knives.</p>
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<a name="section0038"><h2>38. Chapter 38</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wh-what?” Jessica stammered as her once-ally stood above her, knife in each hand.</p><p>“That’s the question I should be asking you,” Avalon sneered.  “What little trick do you have up your sleeve?”</p><p>Jessica trembled beneath her gaze.  “I-I don’t kn-know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>Avalon glared at her.  “Yeah?  You going to stab me in the back with the knife I gave you?  Or did you poison the food?”</p><p>Jessica shook her head.</p><p>“You want to eat some to prove it?” Avalon asked.</p><p>“I c-can,” Jessica said.</p><p>The antidote.  She had the antidote.  So even if she ate it, she would just take a sip of the antidote and be fine.</p><p>Avalon kicked Jessica in the chest, sending the girl sprawling to the ground.  In the process, the little vial of poison rolled out of her sleeve and onto the ground between them.  Jessica gasped for breath as Avalon nudged the vial with the toe of her boot.</p><p>“Didn’t you ask me to give you a chance?” Avalon said as she walked over and stood above the girl.  My sister, only fifteen years old, looked so much older and more mature than this girl who scrambled desperately to get away.  “Didn’t you ask me to not stab you in the back or slit your throat while you were asleep?”</p><p>“I-I did,” gasped Jessica.  “But I’m not as strong as you.  I could never have—”</p><p>“I. don’t. care,” Avalon snarled as she took her knife and plunged it into Jessica’s throat.  Blood spurted up from the laceration and splashed across Avalon.  From above, the cannon fired.  Avalon withdrew the knife and Jessica’s body slumped to the ground, blood pooling on the saturated earth.  My sister remained motionless for a second before she began to rifle through Jessica’s pockets.  Out came the antidote and the burn cream.  Avalon muttered something the cameras didn’t pick up, and then she pulled the knife she had given Jessica out of the girl’s boot.</p><p>At last she stood up, gathered their belongings, and left.</p><p>I curled up on the couch and began to cry.</p><p> </p><p>Tonight there were three faces in the sky: District 5 female, District 8 female, and District 9 female.  Only three tributes remain.</p><p>Only two people stand between Avalon and home.</p><p> </p><p>And what does it cost?</p><p>Avalon has killed seven tributes.  Seven people.  She is doing what she has to do to survive, but why must she be in that position at all?  Europa might be angry at me for voicing this opinion, but it still is a question that must be asked.</p>
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<a name="section0039"><h2>39. Chapter 39</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I had to take a break from writing to call and check on Europa.  Once again, she didn’t answer me.  I shouldn’t be surprised.  After that, I went to the park and spent some time walking around a quaint little garden they have.  Part of me wished that I’d find Cassiopeia again, but she wasn’t there.  I can’t say I’m surprised since her tribute just died.</p><p>Extra energy that I hadn’t expected now ran through me, and I found myself on the swing set.  This time I immediately began swinging, and I didn’t stop for at least a full hour until I didn’t think I could move anymore.  I had left Avalon alone for too long.</p><p>Trudging back inside, I began to make a plan.  I would check on Avalon, take a shower, and then head to the training center.  Even if neither Europa nor I needed to see each other right now, it would be in bad form to not at least have others see us together.  Honestly, I was surprised that we hadn’t been called for an interview yet.  Maybe because this arena was full of crazy events that they couldn’t find a time that wouldn’t conflict.  Or maybe because they didn’t expect the Hunger Games to last long.</p><p>I closed the door behind me and headed over to the television.  I had left it running while I was out, and I eagerly awaited news of my sister.  Sure enough, it was only moments before they showed a live feed of her walking through the trees.  She was tracking something—someone.  She was trying to hunt down the remaining two Careers.</p><p>There was no time for a shower.  I grabbed my bag and headed out the door again.  Down the steps, to the street, into a cab.  Then I was back in the training center mentoring room where I found Europa sitting in her chair.</p><p>“How is she doing?” I asked as I sank into the chair next to her.</p><p>“She’s going to take on both of them at once,” Europa sighed.  “I don’t know what she should do.  Just because the District 4 girl is injured doesn’t mean that she’s not dangerous.”</p><p>I glanced around the room at all the empty places.  Even Gill and Fjord were gone.</p><p>“Where’d they go?” I asked.</p><p>“Another party.”</p><p>“You’re not going?”</p><p>“I’m . . . I don’t want to leave.  If I leave, what happens if Avalon needs me?” she asked.  My sister sounded almost . . . young.  Like a child terrified to leave her mother’s side.  But I understood what she meant because it was the time in between that was the worst: while you were waiting for your cab to arrive, or walking into a house, or whatever, you might miss a critical moment in the Hunger Games.</p><p>But at the same time, it reflected extremely poorly on a mentor if they didn’t show up to scheduled events, with the exception of a few people.  That was something that Avalon couldn’t afford.</p><p>“I’ll go to the party.  In your place,” I said.</p><p>Europa shook her head, eyes still on the screen.  “Not a good party.  Not the sort you want to go to.”</p><p>“And if you don’t go but you’re expected to go, Avalon could get killed out of spite.”</p><p>“Don’t you think I don’t know that?!” Europa snapped.</p><p>“So let me go. You did the same for me, didn’t you?”</p><p>Europa looked at me and studied my face hard.  She was trying to figure out how to handle this precarious situation.  There was no way she’d be able to protect both Avalon and me at the same time, and now she would have to choose.  Her shoulders slumped.</p><p>“You told me earlier that I’d be able to help later.  Now is later,” I insisted.  I knew who she would choose.  I knew she would want to protect the one she had been struggling to protect for days now.  But I wasn’t offended because I knew that I would make the same decision were I in her place.</p><p>At last, Europa nodded.  “Yeah.  But take my knife with you.”</p><p>“So I can shank Capitolites that get a little too handsy?  I don’t think that it would reflect well on Avalon,” I replied.  But I was already standing up.  “I’m going to use your shower.  And your makeup.  And probably wear one of your dresses.”</p><p>“The knife is in the dresser, second drawer down.  Text me before you leave, okay?  Then I’ll send you the address.”</p>
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<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Chapter 40</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Capitol hosts a wide range of parties for the Hunger Games from large, booming ordeals to small and intimate gatherings.  These are just the ones that are “official.”  Of course various groups of families, friends, and communities organize their own parties, but we victors rarely go to those.  Instead we usually end up only to the ones that are mandatory.  Nobody outright says that if you don’t go that your tribute may die, but it’s been strongly implied—and sometimes demonstrated—so nobody wants to take a chance.</p><p>The cab pulled up in front of an apartment complex, and I climbed out and thanked the driver.  It’s fortunate that Europa and I are roughly the same size, though I had to wear her high heels to give me an extra inch or more so the dress wouldn’t be too long.  Part of our Career training, believe it or not, involved learning how to wear dresses and walk in high heels.  It’s a small part, but still something that they made us do whether we thought it useful or not.</p><p>As soon as the elevator opened to the floor with the party, I was greeted with open arms.</p><p>“Isabella!” cried Yule Lachamp, the party’s host.  He took my hand and gave it a light kiss.  “I’m surprised to see that your sister isn’t here.”</p><p>“I asked if I could go for her,” I explained with a smile, as though this were the pinnacle of my time in the Capitol.  “I do hope you don’t mind.”</p><p>“Not at all, my girl,” Yule said.  He put an arm around my shoulder and led me into the main room, a great sprawling sitting room with a variety of couches, clunky (but fashionable) furniture, and plenty of televisions.  There were about two dozen people here, including both the mentors from District 4.  I didn’t let their presence bother me; I had known before I even volunteered to come that they would be here.  Yule addressed the room: “We have one Vitner here to join us tonight!”</p><p>“Pretty soon you will have all three,” I said lightly.</p><p>Yule squeezed my shoulder.  “I should hope so!”</p><p>When he released me, I knew it was my cue to go forward and socialize.  I had never been at a party quite this small without another District 1 victor, and I was afraid that I would have no one to talk with, but it didn’t take long before people were coming up to me.</p><p>“Isabella, it’s great to see you here!” greeted one rotund woman, Crystalline Macintosh.  She leaned in and gave me a kiss on each cheek.  “I’m so sorry to see that Europa couldn’t join us.  Is everything okay?”</p><p>I smiled at her.  “You know Europa,” I said.  “She is glued to her screen right now.  Probably would have been pretty lame addition to the party.  But you’ll see her soon enough, don’t you worry.”</p><p>“You three are just the most precious, aren’t you,” she said kindly.  “There’s a lot of money on District 4 right now, but even more on your Avalon.  If she doesn’t win, there will be many disappointed people in the Capitol.”</p><p>“I bet there will be,” I replied as politely as I could as I pretended that she didn’t say something as awful as what she just said.  I glanced up at the closest television screen before looking back at Crystalline.  “So what’s going on in the arena?”</p><p>The woman was just pleased to have me ask her.  She took me by the arm and led me over to one of the hideous green and gold couches.  Televisions hung on the walls all around us, draped on each side by shimmering curtains that matched the furniture.  I pretended to admire the decorations as she directed me to the most prominent couch.  There she introduced me to several people and bid me to sit down next to a man named Felix Dionysus, a character rather familiar to many of us victors—and not in a good way.  But I pretended to be enchanted by the opportunity and greeted him warmly.</p><p>“It’s a privilege to see you again, Isabella,” said Felix.</p><p>I smiled.  “I could say the same to you.”</p><p>It was far from a privilege.  Felix Dionysus had the power to do whatever he wanted, both to the victors and to the tributes still in the arena.  The worst thing you could do was piss him off.</p><p>“Now, Isabella,” Crystalline interrupted.  “You wanted to know what has been happening.”</p><p>“Yes, I do,” I said pleasantly.</p><p>Felix’s hand went to my leg, and I shifted ever so slightly closer towards him.  Not enough to show that I was interested in him or inviting him to move closer, but enough to show that I was comfortable in his presence.  He moved his hand but only to wrap his arm around my shoulder.</p><p>“Your sister, Avalon, has been tracking the District 4 tributes, as I’m sure you know,” Crystalline said.  The large television displayed both of the tributes, Cod and Perch, huddled together as they whispered between each other.</p><p>“Yes, of course,” I replied.  I sat up a little straighter as I listened to her.</p><p>She beamed at me.  “She’s doing a mighty fine job.  She has almost caught up to them.  Cod is in good shape, but Perch is pretty injured right now after she got cut in the flood, so we will see how this plays out!”</p><p>“I’m sure your sister will do just fine,” Felix whispered to me.  His voice was like butter: smooth and delicious but makes you want to vomit if there is too much of it.</p><p>“Who are you rooting for, Felix?” I asked him innocently.</p><p>He smiled at me.  “Who <em>should</em> I root for?”</p><p>“The best tribute, of course,” I reply.  “Though I don’t think I need to tell you that.”</p><p>“I suppose very shortly we will find out who that best tribute is,” he said.  His voice dropped off as someone turned the volume up on the television, both of our attentions immediately drawn to the sounds of footsteps on saturated ground.</p><p>“. . . She could be anywhere,” came the voice of the District 4 male, Cod.  “But we’ll find her.”</p><p>It was evening in the arena, and the light was starting to fade rapidly.  There wasn’t a whole lot of time left to look for their enemy before everything grew dark.  Cod was laden with weapons of all types, but I didn’t see the crossbow that he had in his inventory.  Perhaps he didn’t want Avalon to see it until the very end.  The girl, on the other hand, was limping noticeably and carried only her trident.  The bow and quiver lay on the ground next to her.  She had a rag tied around the wound on her leg, but it was soaked through with blood.  More blood was dried beneath the bandage where it had run down in streams down her skin.</p><p>The District 4 tributes didn’t need to wait very long because only moments later a knife whizzed out of the shadows and struck the District 4 girl, Perch, in the abdomen, sinking deep into her body.  She cried out in pain and ripped out the knife.  Casting it aside, she heaved up her trident and limped over in the direction the knife had come from.  Her gait was damaged by the leg wound, and she was clinging to her abdomen to suppress the bleeding.  Cod was also on his feet, charging in the same direction.  He had his sword out, ready to take out Avalon.</p><p>But Avalon, of course, was long gone.  The moment that the District 4 tributes had come after her, she began to move quickly and quietly.  And once they had moved away from where they originally sat, she ran in, snagged the bow and arrows that the female tribute had left behind, and took off running.  She didn’t go very far before she started to climb a tree.</p><p>There was little daylight left, but it would benefit Avalon.  In this forest where there wasn’t much underbrush, she would have been found almost immediately.  But here in the shadows, she could reign without being seen.</p><p>Once she was in the tree, she waited for the District 4 tributes to come closer.  Their voices rose and fell with the breeze, but neither of them could find where she went.  The longer they searched, the more frustrated they became.  Finally, at last, they came within range.  Avalon had precious little opportunity by now.  It was so dark and if the shot wasn’t perfect, she would only hit a tree branch.  In the dimming light, it would be easier to miss than not.  The camera focused on her sitting in the tree, arrow drawn back on her bow.</p><p>She released the arrow.</p><p>Perch fell down with an arrow in her neck.  The cannon boomed.</p><p>Several people within the party started screaming with excitement.  Fjord, on the other hand, let out a deep breath.  Gill clapped him on the back and said something to him that I couldn’t hear.  A few of the Capitolites in the room rushed to console the mentor.</p><p>“Your sister certainly is something,” said Felix.  “That’s an impressive eight kills.  If she wins, that will be nine.  She might be setting a record.”</p><p>“She’ll be setting many records,” I replied.  An avox stopped by with drinks on a tray.  I took the closest drink and held it in my hands.  “She will be the third Vitner.  Fourth in our family including our grandmother.”</p><p>“Impressive, definitely,” he said.  He absently played with the ends of my hair, twirling the thick golden strands between his fingers.  His mind was no longer on Avalon.</p><p>But onscreen, things were not wrapped up for the night.  There were two tributes left, and Cod was in a state of anger that couldn’t be quenched until Avalon was dead.</p><p>“I could . . . pull a few strings.  Make sure that Avalon makes it out of the arena,” Felix leaned in and whispered to me.</p><p>It was a tempting offer.  The warmth of his breath on my ear wrapped itself around my brain as I wished that it could be true.  But I recalled what Avalon said, about how she didn’t want to win because it was handed to her.  I wished she hadn’t told me so that I could take Felix up on his offer, regardless of what it would have cost me tonight.</p><p>I smiled at Felix and rested my hand lightly on his leg.  “I would be more than honored for your assistance, but I think it would be more interesting if she did this on her own,” I said, the smile never leaving my lips.  “What do you think?”</p><p>“Will it be a good show?” he asked.</p><p>“Has she not provided one already?” I replied.  “She will not disappoint.”</p><p>I hated this.  I hated this all.  I hated the party to watch kids kill each other, I hated that I was now a willing piece in this horrible game as I sat here practically in the lap of this powerful man, and I hated that I had turned down this man’s offer to get Avalon back alive because God knows how terribly I wanted to see my sister again.  But despite the hate, I pretended that I was, well . . . not enjoying but <em>appreciating</em> the party.  Because if I didn’t, the man who had so much power to skew the finale right here and now could certainly skew it so that it wasn’t in Avalon’s favor.</p><p>“No, you Vitners never do,” he whispered as he leaned in and kissed me.</p><p>I only let him do so for a moment before I pulled back slightly.  “We can’t miss the finale.”</p><p>“No, of course not,” he said, his eyes intent on me.</p><p>I wanted to vomit on him.  But instead I gave him a lingering look before I turned back to the television screen.  I felt his eyes remain on me for a few moments longer.</p><p>Oh, Avalon, it’s so close to the end!  There were only mere minutes left.  And every moment I sat there was a wretched nightmare as I longed to see you make it through alive.</p><p>Avalon clung to the trunk of the tree from her location high above the forest floor.  And then Cod put down his bag and pulled out the crossbow.  Without warning, an arrow fired from the crossbow sped through their air and planted itself in Avalon’s stomach.  She cried out in pain and gasped when she tried to move.  From down below, the District 4 male cheered.  And then Avalon, my dear Avalon, plummeted out of the tree towards the ground below.</p>
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<a name="section0041"><h2>41. Chapter 41</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As she fell, she broke through branches, and in return the branches broke her.  I sat up straight.  No way could she have gotten this far only to be killed.  No way.  I clasped my hands together as I watched her, praying to whatever god may be listening to please, please bring my sister home alive.</p><p>Avalon hit the ground with a hard THUNK.  It was unclear what damages she sustained in the fall, but her leg was almost certainly broken, and there was still the arrow in her stomach.  Broken ribs, maybe.  Possibly internal damage.  All she had to do was hang on for a few more minutes, make one more kill, let the hovercraft pick her up. . . .  But as she lay there on the ground, chest heaving, doubt began to twist its way through my mind.</p><p>“You <em>sure</em> you don’t want help?” Felix whispered to me.</p><p>Yes, I wanted help!  Yes, I wanted her to win!</p><p>Cod moved in to make the kill.  He raised his sword up.</p><p>If I didn’t take this man’s offer and Avalon died, then Europa would never speak with me again.  I would lose two sisters instead of one.  But if I did take it and Avalon lived, she would never forgive me.  She would rather be dead with honor than live knowing that she had done so simply because of her last name.</p><p>This was worse than being in my own arena.</p><p>This was worse than the Hunger Games itself.</p><p>Because in the arena, I was trained to kill and win.</p><p>Out here, I had no training.  It wasn’t my life I was gambling with, but that of my sister.</p><p>Cod grinned down at her.  This was a moment that wouldn’t be forgotten by all of Panem.  The moment that he took out a Vitner and dethroned a family of Career victors.  Some of us would never forgive him, but many in the Capitol would hail him for his strength and skills.  He knew this.  Cod was prepared for the glory that he would bring to District 4 with one final blow.</p><p>Avalon lay on the ground looking up at him.  She struggled to breathe.  The arrow in her abdomen heaved up and down with every labored breath.  She winced, and a little whimper of pain escaped her bloodied lips.</p><p>I couldn’t watch this.  My sister in so much pain.  About to die.  But I forced myself to stare at the screen and not look away.</p><p>Avalon swept her good leg around and brought Cod to the ground hard.  Before he had a chance to recover, she had her knife out and threw herself on top of him.  He swung his sword as hard as he could, slicing across her left arm.   A deep gash that exposed muscle and bone formed.  Avalon cried out, but despite the tears that sprung into her eyes, she made her move.</p><p>Already her knife was going down.  It found its place in Cod’s chest.</p><p>She withdrew it and stabbed it again.</p><p>Cod still tried to fight, but his movements were weak and he couldn’t hold the sword.</p><p>Avalon withdrew the knife a second time, but now when it came down, it was in his throat.  He spasmed and then stopped moving as blood spurted out of his neck.</p><p>Avalon heaved herself to her feet and staggered backwards as the cannon fired.</p><p>Eyes wide, she looked around her.  She was stunned.  She won!  She made it!</p><p>I jumped to my feet and cried out.  The sounds of the television were barely audible over the cheers of the many people within this apartment.  My voice was lost out in the crowd, but I didn’t care.</p><p>Avalon!  You did it!  You made it!</p><p>Felix kissed me again, and this time I didn’t care.  None of that mattered.  All that mattered was that Avalon was alive and standing on her own.  She was the victor.  I would be seeing her again!</p><p>Then came Janice Lovely’s voice: “I am pleased to announce the victor of the 146<sup>th</sup> Annual Hunger Games: Avalon Vitner of District 1!”</p><p>Avalon, bleeding from her stomach and her arm, barely able to stand on her own—she just smiled.</p>
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<a name="section0042"><h2>42. Chapter 42</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As soon as I possibly could, I untangled myself from Felix and bid everyone a warm farewell.  People I didn’t even know gave me hugs and kissed my cheeks as they celebrated Avalon’s success.  But they, of course, didn’t care about Avalon as a person, only that the tribute they put money on had won or that the trio of Vitners had made it through.  It was nothing more than a trophy or collection to them.</p><p>I found myself face-to-face with the District 4 mentors, and I was at a complete loss for words.  Of course Avalon’s victory was something <em>I</em> celebrated, but they had both lost their tributes. Tributes who, as Ferrer had reminded me, were living beings with families of their own.  To my relief, both Gill and Fjord hugged me and congratulated me.  They are better people than I am, that is for certain.</p><p>Then in my excitement, I made haste for the hospital.</p><p>It takes awhile for the tribute to go from the arena to the hospital, depending upon how far away the arena actually is, but both Europa and I would be there for when she wakes.</p><p>I could barely hold still in the cab.  The driver kept chattering with me, gushing over how excited she was that Avalon had won, and praising us Vitners up and down for doing what many people thought to be impossible.  My brain whirred a million miles per minute as I willed the car to move faster <em>faster</em> and just be at the hospital already.</p><p>The cab could barely reach the front of the hospital.  So many people had gathered well before the victor—the newest victor—would be brought in, hoping to catch a glimpse of her hovercraft touching down on the roof.  It was too far away for them to see any details, but it didn’t matter.  They wanted to say that they had been there the moment our victor was brought into the Capitol.</p><p>“I think this is as far as I can go without running anyone over,” said the cabbie.  “And heaven knows we’ve had enough bloodshed for the night.  Will you be okay if I just park here?”</p><p>“Yes, thank you,” I said, already opening the door.  Throngs of people began to swallow the cab up the moment they saw me, but I didn’t care.  It didn’t matter anymore.  Immediately the cameras swooped in on me, and the crowds pushed around me as they tried to get as close to me as possible.  Trying to push my way politely through the bodies was nearly impossible, but I had to make sure that not a single person thought me rude in my haste.  Reporters shouted out questions, but they came as a great jumble as their voices intertwined, and I couldn’t answer any even if I wanted to.  People started cheering my name for some reason.  I kept the smile on my face and greeted whoever I could as I pressed though towards the hospital doors.</p><p>At last hospital security heaved themselves through the crowd and escorted me to the front.  It still took several minutes.  Finally the doors opened and we stepped into the cool air of the hospital.</p><p>“Thank you,” I told the security officers.</p><p>One officer, a tall woman who I would have pegged more for an escort than a security officer, said to me, “I’ll take you to Europa.  Stay close.”</p><p>As we walked through the hospital, people gawked.  No one tried to hide it.  Here I was, not just a victor myself but a sister of the newest victor.  I didn’t care that everyone’s eyes were on me.  Why shouldn’t they be?  Avalon just set several new records tonight as she carried on the family legacy.  My heels clicked on the floor, drawing attention from anyone who happened to be in rooms or offices.  Once we reached the elevator and disappeared inside, I had the briefest break from all the attention.  But that came to an end as the doors opened once more.</p><p>The security officer led me down a corridor and towards a small waiting room.  There were several other people here, including Mildred Honeydew, our escort; Blue-Anna, the stylist; and Hammer.  Some of the people I didn’t recognize.</p><p>“Wait here,” the officer told me as she vanished.</p><p>I nodded, but I couldn’t join them in the sets of chairs against the walls.  The television on the far side showed recaps of the Hunger Games, but I couldn’t even watch that.  Instead I paced around for several seconds until Hammer stood up and walked over.</p><p>“I knew she could do it,” he said with a shy grin.</p><p>I threw my arms around him in a hug, and he hugged me back.  “Thank you for believing in her,” I mumbled before releasing him.</p><p>Then Mildred was hugging me, and Blue-Anna, and so were some of the other people I didn’t know.  All of them congratulated me, and told me how happy they were that Avalon was the victor.</p><p>“Where’s Europa?” I asked.</p><p>“They’re talking with her right now.  Mentor stuff,” Hammer said.</p><p>There wasn’t a moment to interrupt before Isolde and Jericho appeared in the doorway.  Once again, there were more hugs, more congratulations, more excitement.</p><p>A few minutes passed, and then Mildred stood up.  “I’m going to go see where they are,” she said.  “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out, Isabella.”</p><p>“Thank you!” I said.  Knowing that I was one step closer to seeing them made me even more agitated, and now I could barely stay contained within this single room.  It was all I could do not to go hunting for Europa myself.  The others tried to talk with me, but I was too distracted to be of any use.</p><p>When Mildred returned, she didn’t look quite enthused.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” I demanded.</p><p>She shook her head.  “Nothing.  The hovercraft is on its way.  Avalon is stable.”</p><p>“Can I go see them?  Where’s Europa?  Can I wait with her for Avalon?”</p><p>Mildred hesitated.  “Europa doesn’t really want you with her right now.  Things have been really tense, I’m sure you understand.”</p><p>But I didn’t.  I really didn’t understand.  I thought that Europa and I had mended our disagreements.  And then I had discovered things that had helped her help Avalon.  I had spied on other mentors.  I even went to that damned party for her.  But now she was once more casting me aside because she didn’t need me.</p><p>
  <em>Why?</em>
</p><p>Isolde grabbed my arm.  “It’s okay,” she told Mildred.  “We can keep ourselves occupied until we hear otherwise.  I’m sure Europa is super stressed right now.”</p><p>Mildred nodded and gave Isolde an appreciative smile.  “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”  She smiled at me, then turned and disappeared down the hallway.</p>
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<a name="section0043"><h2>43. Chapter 43</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Time ticked by.  Isolde eventually offered to take me back to my apartment so I could change into something more appropriate for waiting in the hospital.  At first I disagreed, but eventually she was able to convince me otherwise.</p><p>“It’ll be just a quick trip,” she promised.  “Then you’ll be right back here.”</p><p>Finally I consented but only because I didn’t know what else to do.  Isolde led me out of the hospital through winding back corridors and finally out an unmarked exit.  Almost immediately we managed to hail a cab, and we were on our way back to my apartment.  Neither of us spoke the entire trip.  I was far too tense to hold a conversation anyhow.</p><p>Inside my apartment, I stripped off the dress before I even reached my bedroom, kicked off the heels, and then headed directly to the closet.  I found the most comfortable—and yet respectable—clothing I could find, stuffed a few extras into a backpack (including blank pages torn from this very notebook), and headed to the door where Isolde was waiting.</p><p>“Hang on, Isabella,” she said as I reached for the handle.</p><p>I closed my eyes.  Not a lecture, please.</p><p>“I don’t know what’s going on with Europa.  I’ll see if I can find out for you.  But, in the meantime, just know that myself—and Hammer, he’ll be okay with me speaking for him—are here for you, okay?”</p><p>I nodded.  “Sure,” I said, without looking at her.  I didn’t want to think about it at the time because it was too much to handle.  Right now should be a time for celebrating not for working out sibling drama.  My hand twisted on the doorknob and the door opened.</p><p>Isolde sighed but followed me outside.</p><p> </p><p>Back at the hospital, I found myself once more in the waiting room.  But I had no sooner sat down than we received notification that Avalon’s hovercraft had landed and they were in the process of transferring her to surgery.</p><p>“I need to be there,” I told Isolde.  Desperation filled my voice.  How could I not be there?</p><p>She studied my face for a moment.  “Alright,” she said.  “I’ll see what I can do.”</p><p>I forced myself to sit down in the chair as Isolde left.  The others were staring at me, but I turned my attention to the clock and watched the second hand move slowly around the circle.</p><p>If Europa denied me the ability to see our sister. . . .</p><p>It hurt to be shut out when Avalon was preparing to go into the arena, and it was irritating to not be included in her planning.  But I thought that there was a breakthrough when I helped Europa a couple days ago.  I thought we were through this.  Now I was extremely confused about what was happening, and I didn’t know where to begin.  I tapped my shoe against the smooth tile flooring as I waited for news about Avalon.</p><p>“Isabella?” came Isolde’s voice.</p><p>I looked up. “What?”</p><p>“C’mon,” she said.</p><p>Excitement burst through me, and I jumped up and followed after her.  She led me down meandering corridors, past patient rooms and nurse work stations.</p><p>“I’m not supposed to do this, Isabella,” said the older victor under her breath.  “Europa doesn’t want you around for whatever reason she has.  But I’m going to get you in anyway.  She’s going to be pissed, just as a head’s up.”</p><p>“Thank you, Isolde,” I said.  “I really don’t understand what is going on with her.”</p><p>She shook her head.  “I have absolutely no idea.  Mentoring Avalon seems to be destroying her.”</p><p>“Is it me?” I asked.  “Is it because of me?”</p><p>We turned a corner into yet another hallway.  It was a little emptier, and down the way I saw two peacekeepers blocking a door.</p><p>“No, it’s definitely not you,” she reassured me.  “Mentoring is hard—you know it is—but I think having to mentor two siblings in just a few years was too much for her.”</p><p>I nodded like I understood.  She was the one who wanted us both to go to the Hunger Games.  She encouraged me, and she wouldn’t listen when I asked her to not send Avalon.  So why would it affect her so much?</p><p>When we reached the end of the hallway, the Peacekeepers moved aside and let us pass through without any questions.  It was much easier than I thought it would be, though of course the Peacekeepers had no reason to think that Europa was blocking me.</p><p>At last we came to another waiting room, this one far less crowded.  Voices floated from within, and I walked in just in time to overhear Europa saying, “. . . Of <em>course</em> there will be no body modification.  She’s fifteen—she’ll get bigger boobs on her own!”</p><p>The other person in the room appeared to be a surgeon or doctor or some other person on medical staff.  She was shorter than Europa, but the frown on her face was enough to know that she didn’t like being told what to do.</p><p>“If her boobs are too big, it might hinder her ability to use a bow,” I said as I walked in.</p><p>Europa shot me a look, first of irritation and then of confusion.  And right after that, she glared at Isolde.  Isolde held her own and didn’t allow Europa to intimidate her despite the fact that my sister had a good couple inches and many more pounds of muscle compared to Isolde.</p><p>The doctor person sighed wearily.  “She needs to have something to show that the Hunger Games has improved her.”</p><p>I huffed.  Avalon didn’t need to be improved.  At all.  She was fine as she was.</p><p>“What about if you bring out the green in her eyes?” I suggested.</p><p>The woman glanced at the clipboard in her hands, made a quick note with a small pen, and then looked back up at us.  “I will have to check with my supervisor.”  She excused herself and disappeared into the hallway.</p><p>There was a moment in which I thought that maybe everything was alright between Europa and me, but that moment dissolved in a heartbeat as Europa rounded on us.</p><p>“What the <em>hell</em> is she doing here?!” Europa demanded of Isolde.</p><p>Isolde raised an eyebrow.  “She wanted to see her sisters.  Is that a problem?”</p><p>Europa glared at me without speaking.  She was trying to decide how to handle this problem, no doubt.  Wondering if it would be okay to just toss me out of here before anyone else stepped in to see the chaos.</p><p>“I don’t want to get in an argument in the hospital,” I said.  “But I’d like to stay here with you.  I want to see Avalon, too.”</p><p>Something akin to sadness gleamed in my sister’s eyes only to disappear into a hard anger a moment later.  “You’re not supposed to be here.”</p><p>“Europa, really?” Isolde said with exasperation.</p><p>Europa hesitated, then shook her head.  She seemed entirely conflicted as her expression flickered between sadness and anger and back again.  “I can’t explain right now.  Not right here.  But please, Isabella, trust me—get out of here.”</p><p>My heart pounded.  None of this made any sense.</p><p>“I’m supposed to be here.  With you.  With Avalon.  Please let me stay here,” I pleaded.</p><p>The anger was back on her face, marring her perfect features.  “Isolde, get her out of here.”</p><p>“What would you have her do?” Isolde asked.  “Go back to the waiting room where everyone knows that you rejected her?  Or maybe have her go back to her apartment and wallow in misery because her older sister keeps using her and discarding her?”</p><p>Europa walked over to Isolde and stared her down.  A spark of anger flickered between the two of them, and neither were going to back down.  I opened my mouth to say something, but no words would resolve whatever was going on in their silent conflict.</p><p>“Fine,” Europa said, still locked in battle with Isolde.  “Isabella, go to the bathroom.  I’ll come get you when I can.”</p><p>“I—um, sure,” I said.  I glanced at Isolde, but she was still staring down my sister.  So I took a deep breath and headed into the hallway and towards the nearest women’s room.</p><p>I have been here for several hours now, and I am grateful that I brought some paper with me to write on.  Once I am back in my apartment, I’ll have to paste them back into my notebook, though I don’t know when I’ll be back.</p><p>How long I’ll be trapped sitting in the stall of a women’s bathroom, I am uncertain.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0044"><h2>44. Chapter 44</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I hope you never have to experience the great discomfort of sleeping in a toilet stall.  Not that I was doing much sleeping to begin with, but eventually I began to nod off, and it’s a damned good thing that the toilets in the Capitol are more luxurious than those in District 1.  Still, it’s a hospital bathroom and is more sparsely furnished than most toilets.  In this particular stall, I have my own toilet, of course, and also a sink, hand drier, and chair with a tiny little table.  It’s on this chair that I’ve spent most of my time.</p><p>Some toilets in other places in this city are wild.  They have bidets and heaters and all sorts of things attached to the toilets themselves.  Sometimes there are entire lounges in a stall.  One I went into even had an avox who would come in and offer you snacks and drinks while you were there.  Most are much simpler but they usually have televisions at very least.  Not that I want to watch TV right now.</p><p>Hang on—I hear the bathroom door opening.</p><p> </p><p>False alarm.  It was the cleaning staff come to make sure that everything was tidy in the bathroom.  Hopefully they are not alarmed by the fact that this stall has been locked for hours.</p><p>Why is there a chair in a toilet?  Does one person use the toilet and the other sit here and stare at them?</p><p>Forgive me, I think I’m going mad in here.</p><p>Who can blame me when I’ve been drinking out of the sink whenever I’ve been thirsty?  I can’t even remember when I last ate. . . .  Definitely before the party last night.  I know that with plenty of water available, Europa won’t be worried about how long she leaves me here because she’s seen me go days without food.  But there is only so long I can pace around this confined area before I begin to lose it.</p><p>I am in a prison cell.</p><p>The question still remains: why?</p><p>Why did Europa decide that a bathroom of all places was the best place to put me?  Why was this better than a waiting room or my own apartment?</p><p>And why hasn’t Isolde come back to either get me out of here or give me updates?</p><p> </p><p>For a few minutes (hours?) I slept fitfully.  I dreamed of my time in the arena, but this time there was something that the recap didn’t cover: this time there was one more muttation that hadn’t been shown in the video.  But the recap videos don’t show every single thing that happened to every single tribute, even the victor.</p><p>When I woke up, I knew that it wasn’t a dream but a fragment of a memory.</p><p>It’s weird how things come back to you in pieces when you least expect it.  I’ve been getting little glimpses of what I had forgotten over the past few days.  Usually they’re just little blips—pieces of conversation between myself and my fellow Careers, thoughts that raced through my head, the faces of the tributes I killed.  I guess that’s normal for someone whose memory was gone for so long.  There are still pieces of it coming back.</p><p> </p><p>I have made a little deer out of a piece of paper.  My friends taught me to do this long ago, back before Augustus died.  Back when I had friends.  It’s a process called origami, I think.  The deer is dainty and perches on four spindly legs.  It won’t stand a chance against a breeze, but fortunately there are no drafts in a hospital.</p><p> </p><p>It’s the evening.  I don’t know exactly what time because I don’t have a clock, but I have been here for hours.  People come and go, and each time I am once again quiet.</p><p>What would happen if someone found me?  That would be ridiculous.  How would we ever pretend that this is normal?</p>
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<a name="section0045"><h2>45. Chapter 45</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I am back home in my apartment.  After spending more than twenty-four hours in a bathroom stall, I left.  At this point, I don’t care what Europa’s plan was supposed to be.  Here is my escape:</p><p>Last night, I began to feel fatigued.  Between the lack of food and the exhaustion that wasn’t going to be cured by sleeping in the decorative chair in the bathroom stall, I felt like I may pass out at any moment.  Quite frankly, this was humiliating.  How could someone lock her sister away in a bathroom for over a day without at least giving her an update or making her feel like there was a point to it all?  So after the cleaning crew did their nightly clean, I tucked all my belongings back into my backpack, slipped the bag on my shoulders, and crept out into the bathroom.  No one was there, of course, but I continued to proceed with caution.</p><p>Out in the hallway, I hesitated.  I could find my way back downstairs and to the back door without too much trouble, but I really wanted to see Avalon before I left.  It wasn’t pride or family honor or anything like that—I didn’t need to be <em>seen</em> with her.  I just wanted to see my little sister after her ordeal, even if she still wasn’t conscious.</p><p>For this reason, it took me longer than it should have.  I couldn’t let anyone know what I was doing for fear that they would report to Europa, so instead of asking a nurse which room she was in, I ducked and dodged people as they came by.  Somewhere there is a videotape of me jumping into supply closets and bathrooms as I slipped down the halls of the hospital, I’m sure of it.  At last I came to a yet another door guarded by peacekeepers.  I knew that there was no way I’d be able to get around them undetected, so I stood up straight, pulled back my shoulders, and pretended like I had every authority to be there.  They pushed open the door for me, and I entered an eerily quiet corridor punctuated only with the beeping and breathy whirring of machines.</p><p>Avalon lay in a bed in a room off this corridor.  She was alone at the time, so I took the opportunity to step inside and walk to her bedside. Tubes of all sorts came out of every part of her body, braces kept her limbs and neck still, thick bandages and wraps covered almost every bit of skin, including part of her face.  But her long, golden hair was swept off to the side; it was unmistakable.  She was unconscious in a medically-induced coma as the painful healing process was expedited by these various machines.  I couldn’t even tell you what the dozen machines of all shapes and sizes did for her, and I feared accidentally bumping into them.</p><p>“Hey, Avalon,” I said as I crept closer.  I knew she wouldn’t hear me.  “I am so proud of you.  I know what you did was hard—I know because I, too, have been in the arena when it wasn’t fully my choice—and I will always love you no matter what.”</p><p>She looked so small lying here.  I know she had lost a fair amount of muscle and fat over the past week and they were going to try to bulk her up again to look like the stunning Career victor she was, but it wasn’t just that.  In sleep, she was innocent.  Child-like.  The tubes and wires dwarfed her body, the machines towered over her.  The bed they placed her on was larger than your standard hospital bed to accommodate all of the lengthy cables, thick bandages, and bulky braces.</p><p>To think that this girl had killed nine people.</p><p>I wiped away a tear and pulled myself together before I could lose it completely.  Quietly I swung my bag around and pulled out the small origami deer which I gently set by her bedside.</p><p>In a few days, Avalon would be fully awake.  Once she was healed from the various surgeries and procedures, they would treat her skin to remove it from all its impurities.  She wouldn’t feel any of this because the drugs would keep her asleep.  But once she was awake, she would have to begin the real healing process.  The one that would help her reconcile what she did in the arena.</p><p>Is that why I forgot it all?  Is that why I could remember nothing of what I did in the arena?  I couldn’t fathom how I, who always dreamed of a future away from the Hunger Games, had managed to embrace the Career within me so fully that killing was only instinct.  The Hunger Games killed my brother, warped my sister, and yet I had turned into the ultimate Career even without thinking about it.  There was an uncontrollable urge to kill that had flicked on inside my head the moment I was raised into the arena, something so absolutely inhuman that I couldn’t deal with it.  So I locked that part of me away, never to be seen again.</p><p>I won’t let Avalon do the same.  I won’t let her forget what she went through, no matter how much it hurts and no matter how painful it is to remember the things she did.</p><p>At long last, I tore myself away from my sister’s bedside.  Europa would be back at any moment, and I didn’t want to be caught here.  Without another word, I slipped out of the room, down the corridor, and through the door guarded by peacekeepers.  It took me several minutes to find the right path to the right elevator, but from there I knew my way.</p><p>Here I sit at home and contemplate all that has happened.  My sister may be alive and the Hunger Games are finished, but I know that this story is far from over.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0046"><h2>46. Chapter 46</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A sharp rap at my door tore me away from the post-Hunger Games coverage I was watching on television.  I muted the TV and headed over to the entryway.  Without bothering to look through the peephole, I opened the door.</p><p>There stood Europa, and pissed as I have ever seen her.  Her blond hair was messed up like she had slept in her ponytail all week, and her expression was sharp and cold.</p><p>She barged in, nearly running me over in the process, and slammed the door shut behind her.</p><p>“What the ever-living fuck did you think you were doing?!?” she yelled.  Her face was dark and her eyes furious.  She had drawn herself up to her full height and stepped closer towards me.  She released one of her clenched fists, and the origami deer dropped dead to the floor.</p><p>I stepped backwards, not certain—but fairly confident—that I knew what she was referencing.</p><p>“You left me in a bathroom!  For over a day!” I shouted right back.  “What the hell was I supposed to do?!”</p><p>“Stay where you were supposed to!”</p><p>“For how long?  I had no food, I was drinking out of a bathroom sink, and I really wanted to see Avalon.  Is that a crime?” I dared to meet her fiery glare and stare right back at her.</p><p>Europa slammed me up against the nearest wall.  Pain radiated through my back and my head.  I gasped as she tightened her grasp around my neck.  Europa was always stronger than me.  Always bigger, more well-muscled, more likely to win a fight in hand-to-hand combat.</p><p>I spit in her face, and it stunned her just enough that I was able to bring up my hand and break her grasp on my neck.  She released me, and I rolled away.</p><p>This time I knew that she was angry enough to hurt me, and I wasn’t going to let her trap me again.  I’d had enough of being beat up for useless reasons.  I kept my distance from her, doing my best to make sure that there was something that separated us—a couch, an end table, a chair.  Fury radiated off of her and I knew that if she grabbed me one more time, she might actually kill me.  I had seen this look before, but never against me.  Only on television when she was in the arena bent to destroy.</p><p>“Isolde was right—you just use me and discard me whenever you see fit.  How long were you going to leave me in that bathroom?  A day?  A few days?  A week?  When would I once again be useful to you?”  I gripped the back of a chair and stared at her hard, knowing that I had to be able to move within a heartbeat if she lunged.</p><p>“You are supposed to listen to me,” Europa growled.  Her motions mirrored mine, but she kept her distance.</p><p>I snorted.  “Why should I listen to <em>you</em>?  You never listen to me.  Isn’t it supposed to be mutual?  Or is that just how normal people function and not us Vitners?”</p><p>Europa picked up the nearest object she could find—a small desk lamp—ripped it out from the wall, and chucked it at my head.  I dodged it, and the lamp smashed into the wall behind me before falling to the ground.</p><p>“What is <em>that</em> going to accomplish?!” I demanded.  “You trying to kill me?  Then the Capitol doesn’t get its happy trio of victors.  Isn’t that what you want, to make sure that they know how much we love the Hunger Games, the three of us?  To make sure we keep up the happy family appearance?”</p><p>Europa grit her teeth and stared at me.  Angry tears welled in her eyes.  She lunged over the sofa separating us and knocked me to the ground.  Before she could get ahold of me, I twisted out of the way and scrambled backwards.  My chest heaved from the excitement of the fight, and I grinned at her.</p><p>“You’re fucked up, Europa.  I thought I was the one who was messed up, but it’s totally you,” I taunted her between panting breaths.</p><p>“And <em>you</em> don’t understand,” Europa said, pulling herself into a crouch.  She leaped at me again, but this time I moved away before she could land.</p><p>“What don’t I understand, huh?” I demanded.  “Explain it to me.  Or maybe you’d rather lock me away somewhere so that you don’t have to bother interacting with me until the cameras are on us?”</p><p>I was angry, but I was also enjoying this.  There was something beastly within me that thrived on this confrontation, and I wanted nothing more than to flush out all of the energy within me right here and now, just like this.</p><p>“You’re insane,” I spat out.  “You’ve devolved into a madwoman over the past few weeks.  All because <em>you</em> insisted that Avalon and I go to the arena.”</p><p>Europa pounced on me and pinned me to the ground.  Cold from the tiles seeped into my body.  I stared up at my sister, ready to knock her off me within a heartbeat.  But before I could move, she said,</p><p>“Mom and Dad want you dead.”</p><p>I hesitated, the thrill dimming ever-so-slightly.  “Bullshit.”</p><p>“You’re such a stubborn little asshole,” she snarled at me.</p><p>“Why would they want me dead?” I demanded.</p><p>The glare in her eyes softened, but she kept me pinned in place against the hard ground.  “For what you did in the arena.”</p><p>I laughed humorlessly.  “For being killed?  I didn’t think that they’d want to ruin the family legacy just because I wasn’t immediately pronounced victor.”</p><p>Europa grunted.  “It wasn’t about that.  As long as you were the ultimate victor, they don’t care.  Well, they <em>care</em>, but it’s not enough reason to kill you.”</p><p>“Why then?”</p><p>“For what you did to the Farmer’s Son.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0047"><h2>47. Chapter 47</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>It was the seventh day in the arena, and we had already been introduced to the Farmer and his wife.  Harold and I were the only remaining Careers.  We split up to cover more ground, promising that we would meet back in two hours at the designated location.  In normal circumstances, it’s not wise to split up by oneself, but both of us wanted to be out of this horrible arena as fast as we possibly could.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I wandered around the property near the fields when I thought I saw, in the distance, a tribute heading into the chicken house near the barn. The early morning light cast long shadows across the farmyard and obscured my ability to identify which tribute it was.  It didn’t matter, though.  An easy kill since there was only one door.  All I needed to do was trap the tribute there if it looked safe; otherwise I could wait it out until the tribute finally emerged.  Worst case, I could use the lighter in my pocket to burn the entire structure down and, with it, the tribute.  There were multiple options, but all of them involved the other tribute dying so that I would be one more step closer to home.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My footsteps were light and careful as I covered the ground between the field and the chicken house.  The structure was larger than your typical coop and likely housed hundreds of chicken muttations that I needed to be careful around.  No matter, I could always just burn the place down. In my mind, the order of priorities rearranged as I thought about the lethality of various mutts.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I waited outside of the chicken house for a moment as I determined how best to make this place go up in flames.  If I had kerosene, it wouldn’t be a problem, but to obtain that, I’d have to go into another building to scout for resources.  And buildings, of course, were not places I wanted to be.  Chickens normally sit on hay or straw or some other easily ignitable substance.  So if I could start a flame on, say, a stick or branch, open the door, and throw it in, it would do the trick.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Gamemakers were messed up.  I didn’t know who dreamed up this sort of arena, but the more the days passed, the more I wanted out of there.  I relished the thought of burning down this chicken house not just to kill a tribute but also to watch one of their nightmarish structures burn.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There were a few sticks lying around, and I found one that was sturdy.  Removing my bandana, I soaked it in a small bit of cleaning alcohol from my bag and then tied it around the stick to make a torch.  My hand went into my pocket and I pulled out the lighter.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Before I could flick the dial, however, the door to the chicken house opened.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I jumped to my feet, dropped the torch, and pulled out my sword.  The tribute had no chances now.  He or she would be coming out and meeting my blade without—</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But as the door opened, it was not a tribute.  It had the shape of a boy about ten or eleven years old, and in his arms was a basket chock full of eggs.  The face of the kid, however, was what startled me.  It was melted, deranged, inhuman.  The eyes were skewed with one lower than the other.  One ear was near his chin.  His mouth was twisted upward so that it was at a diagonal.  Skin draped across his face like extra fabric.  Putrid liquid glistened on his flesh.  His fingers were tinged with blood, as were the eggs in his basket.  He moved with the same lumbering gait as his parents, one step and then the other, as he began to come in my direction.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yet something about this murderous creature reminded me, of all people, of my brother.  Perhaps it was the bright blue eyes.  Or maybe it was the brown hair with the cowlick in the back that caused a tuff to stick up.  Maybe it was the stature.  Or, most likely, I was merely going insane and seeing things that were impossible.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Regardless, I froze on the spot and stared back at the monster.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Augustus,” I breathed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I knew that this wasn’t my brother.  There was no way it could be.  My brother was long dead, and he was not the template for a Capitol muttation.  There were probably thousands—hundreds of thousands—of kids around the country who fit this mold.  But somewhere within my brain, there was a small inkling that this could, in fact, be my brother trapped in this vile body with its twisted face and bloodstained hands.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And I needed to set my brother free.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With a cry, I charged for the Farmer’s Son and stabbed him straight through with the sword.  The muttation released a guttural cry, but it didn’t die.  They wouldn’t die, these muttations.  I withdrew my sword and lopped off the head of the creature.  The Farmer’s Son was still alive.  The body writhed and the head twisted in a soundless howl.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I drew back my leg and kicked the head inside the chicken house where it was greeted with frantic squawking of startled birds.  Then I chopped off the arms and the legs of the creature, dismembering it just as its mother had done to the District 2 boy.  I kicked each body part into the chicken house, sometimes several times to make sure that it was all inside.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Panting with exertion, I sheathed my sword, grabbed up the torch and lighter, and once more continued with the plan.  The torch illuminated with fire and I slipped the lighter back in my pocket.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Goodbye,” I whispered as I tossed the torch into the chicken coop, closed the doors, and fastened them tight.  Nobody would escape the flames that soon began to consume the buildings.  The frantic squawking of chickens mixed with the smell of burned flesh.  I had seen enough.  I walked away, never to return to this part of the arena again.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0048"><h2>48. Chapter 48</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Europa still had me pinned on my back, but she was only straddling me, no longer pushing my shoulders into the tile.</p><p>“What’s done is done,” I said to her.  “Why would they want me dead now?”</p><p>“Don’t you see?” she asked.  “You’re a liability to them.”</p><p>I wiggled my way out from underneath her and sat down.  The sudden memory had sapped some of that angry energy that coursed through me, and now I was left wearier than I anticipated.  Europa sat back herself, no longer intent on hurting me.  There was so much pain in her face.  Her eyes watered and her lips trembled when she talked.</p><p>“How am I a liability?” I asked her.</p><p>“You were always the closest with Augustus.  You protested when they covered up his death.  And when you saw him in that muttation in the arena, it only cemented the fact that not only you were not over him but you were not willing to keep the family secret to yourself,” Europa explained.</p><p>“That was three years ago,” I balked.</p><p>“You’ve gotten wilder.  More independent.  And when you wanted to stop Avalon from volunteering, they knew that they had to stop you.”   Europa looked at me.  “They couldn’t control you anymore, and they knew that you were so devoted to Augustus.  They feared that you would use this opportunity to speak out about him.”</p><p>I didn’t respond.  How many times had I wanted to say something to other people?  I yearned to share Augustus with Ferrer when he told me about his brothers and sister; it only made sense.  I would have loved to tell Isolde, maybe even Cassiopeia.  Hell, if given the chance, I might even want to tell the whole world.</p><p>“Do you know how much it cost to have Augustus erased from all records?” she asked with genuine curiosity.</p><p>I shook my head.  “I was too absorbed in his death to care about that shit.”</p><p>“Hmm.  Mom and Dad had a lot of money on me going into the arena to make up their debts.”</p><p>“An investment,” I said.  I wondered how they had managed to ensure that Europa would be the volunteer in a district full of kids willing to die.  Just how much power did they have?</p><p>She nodded.  “When I won, it only fueled their greed.”</p><p>I drew in a deep breath and flicked at a bug that was wandering across the tiles near my leg.  My family was messed up, but I didn’t realize the depth to which it was diseased.  It was like a fence post whose base was eaten away by rot and weather; the only way it was functional was to have something else support it.  Rather than removing and replacing the problem, it was only covered up and modified.</p><p>“So, how is keeping me from Avalon and treating me like garbage supposed to keep Mom and Dad from killing me?” I asked with furrowed brows.  I gave the bug another flick.</p><p>“They thought that you would mess up her success, both in and out of the arena,” Europa explained.  “But they also thought that you would taint her—that you’d turn her against the Hunger Games and, more importantly, against them.  To limit the amount of damage, they wanted you pushed to the side and ignored so that you had no influence on the situation, no platform to voice your thoughts.  I don’t care, honestly, but they have . . . <em>friends</em>.  People who know people who know people who could keep an eye on us and our interactions.  If they got wind that you were too involved, they’d freak out.”</p><p>“And kill me?” I asked.</p><p>“When you get home,” Europa confirmed.  “There’s no one here in the Capitol that is willing to do it, but they’d figure out a way to make it happen back in District 1.  They’re so terrified that you’re going to spill about Augustus that they will do anything to make sure that what they worked hard to cover remains that way.</p><p>“Isabella, the costs to cover him up went beyond money.  There was more to it than simply the amount of cash they had to fork over to erase Augustus.  You can see that this was more important than saving face.”</p><p>I picked up the shade from the shattered lamp and mashed it down on the bug.  If I spilled about Augustus, not only would it ruin their reputation but it would also result in everyone finding out that the system could be—and was—manipulated.  My parents would be punished, as would many other people.  This time, it wasn’t just their appearances they were worried about but their own lives.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me in the beginning?”</p><p>Europa sighed.  “I’m sorry, Isabella. I’m not as strong as you are.  I’m not—well, I am a mindless Career, that’s all.  You were always so much more independent than me.”</p><p>“So you decided to let them boss you around?  Just like that?”</p><p>She shook her head.  “If I don’t do what they say, they’re going to make sure I get married off to this wretched man they have chosen for me.  Our parents might not have the direct power to do it, but they do have money—our money—and they will do whatever they can to make sure that they remain in control of us.  You see?  I’m a coward.  I’m not like you.”</p><p>I bit my lip as I thought for a moment.  “I was always an afterthought, wasn’t I?” I asked.  I looked up at her.  “I was never supposed to be my own person.”</p><p>“You were my replacement,” Europa said.  “Remember they used to dress us the same?  They also tried to get us to use the same weapons.”</p><p>“Heavy blunts were always too big for me,” I agreed.  “And I did better with the sword anyhow.”</p><p>“If I fell in training or in the arena, they thought that you would simply pick up where I left off,” Europa explained.  “Just an easy replacement, like switching out a dead lightbulb.”</p><p>This was all too much.  I suppose I don’t have to do much to convince you now how messed up my family is.  How many parents want to kill their children for some convoluted conspiracy?  It doesn’t make sense, and it’s nothing that I would have ever figured out on my own.  Without Europa’s explanation, I would have gone back home to District 1 and been murdered in some equally-convoluted way.  My parents would be back to having only two victor children, but at least they would still have my money and the attention that comes with having a dead victor kid.</p><p>“But if I don’t hang around Avalon, isn’t that going to reflect poorly on the family?” I asked.</p><p>Europa shrugged.  “Fuck if I know.  They want you away because they think you’re going to do deeper damage.  They think you’ll taint her and make her like you.  I think how the media perceives us if you aren’t right there is kind of the least of their concerns.”</p><p>I was a threat to them.  A threat to Avalon’s success, a threat to Augustus’ memory.  A threat to the whole family legacy.  It was easier for them to bury what didn’t conform to their standards than it was to accept that things don’t always go their way.</p><p>“And then they’ll have to figure out a way to kill two children,” I said.  Double the potential for damage.  Greater the need to protect themselves.  If they killed me now, they would only lose one of us.  And if Europa kept me away, I wouldn’t have had time to ‘poison’ Avalon’s brain against them before they killed me.</p><p>My sister groaned.  “I didn’t think about that.”</p><p>“So what happens now?” I asked.  “Do I just stay in my apartment until we go back to District 1?  Will that be enough to convince Mom and Dad that I’m not poisoning Avalon’s mind so they will let me live?  Or have I already done too much to convince them that I’m a threat?”</p><p>That interview.  That damned interview.  No wonder Europa flipped out on me.  A memory that no one else would care about except for our family because it was a reminder that I didn’t forget what was supposed to not exist.</p><p>Europa buried her face in her hands.  “I’m so sorry, Isabella,” she mumbled.  “This is all my fault.  If I had never convinced you to go to the Hunger Games, none of this would have happened.”</p><p>I thought about this for second.  How it was all a tightly-linked chain of events.  One thing led to another lead to another.  If Europa hadn’t convinced me to go—hadn’t encouraged my parents to make sure that my application went into the volunteer pool—then I wouldn’t have the status I have and, thus, would not have the potential to be as great of a threat.</p><p>“This all began long before you volunteered, though,” I said.  “If Augustus never died. . . .”</p><p>“They’d have no reason to have this elaborate cover-up,” Europa finished.</p><p>We sat there for several minutes.  I watched the movement on the television but none of it really registered in my brain as I continued to sort everything out.  My parents had killed their own kid and now were willing to kill another to cover it up.  I wouldn’t know if I was successful at doing their bidding until I went back to District 1 where I either lived or died.</p><p>“I don’t know how to protect you now,” Europa whispered.  Tears flowed down her cheeks.  “I did everything I could to make sure you had the best chance in the arena, but now . . . how do I keep you safe at home, the one place that is supposed to be your refuge?”</p><p>“I’m not going home,” I said resolutely.  I turned and met her gaze.  “None of us are.”</p><p>Europa was silent.  I continued, “I’m going to university.  Maybe you should, too.  And Avalon—she still hasn’t finished high school yet, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind putting her in university with us.”</p><p>My sister smiled wearily. “That will solve all our problems, huh?” she asked.</p><p>“Sure, why not?  Mom and Dad might have people who can relay information back to them, but they’re still just District 1 citizens.  They have no power here.”</p><p>Europa thought about this for a moment.  “I haven’t thought about school in years.  Even while I was still in class.”  She gave a dry laugh.  “They’ll probably put me in remedial classes.”</p><p>“Then I’ll join the remedial classes, too,” I said.</p><p>She smiled wearily.  “Isabella, I underestimated you,” she said.  She sighed.  “I said some absolutely cruel things to try to keep you away.  I’m so sorry.”</p><p>I looked directly in her eyes.  My sister, so strong and perfect, was a heap of emotions sitting on the floor.  Her back was pressed to the wall for support.  Perfect, beautiful Europa.  The girl I was always supposed to idolize.</p><p>“I forgive you,” I said.</p><p>And that is the truth.</p>
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<a name="section0049"><h2>49. Chapter 49</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is no point in destroying our relationship because that will save neither of us, not in the long run at least.  But Europa told me she couldn’t do a complete 180 switch, so I ought to be prepared for her to continue to be abrasive towards me.  I accepted this because this is part of the game we are never free from.  This is part of how we live our lives.</p><p>She headed to the hospital first and instructed me to wait at least two hours before following.  That gave me enough time to freshen up and write a bit before grabbing my bag and heading out to meet her and Avalon.</p><p>Avalon is still in her bed right now, still attached to all the hoses and tubes.  But Europa and I are allowed to sit in the room.  On occasion, someone else drops by—the escort, her stylist—and once Isolde walked in, looked confused at the two of us sitting there, and stayed for a few minutes to make sure that everything was okay.</p><p>Sometimes the hospital staff kick us out of her room.  Other times they wheel Avalon, her bed, and a hundred different machines into the hallway and out to another treatment room where they perform various processes to help speed up the healing.  They have names such as “cleansing wash” or “purifying bath” sometimes, but mostly they’re creepy things like “skin scalding” or “bone modification.”</p><p>The staff is friendly to us and often engage us in conversation.  Now that the majority of the hard work is done on Avalon, there are no more discussions about altering her body to better please the Capitol’s eye.  We eat our meals in Avalon’s room if we can, and if we can’t, then we sit in a waiting room in the same hall.</p><p>At last—three days after she was brought back from the arena—she opened her eyes.  They were a brilliant, robust green with only a few flecks of brown and blue.  Close to her original eye color, but different enough to catch your attention and make you look twice.</p><p>“Hello?” she croaked.  They had removed the tube from her throat earlier, but her trachea was still raw and rough.</p><p>“Hey, Avalon,” Europa said, immediately by her side.  She grasped one of Avalon’s hands in hers.</p><p>I stood up and joined them.</p><p>“I hope I didn’t die,” Avalon muttered.</p><p>“Don’t worry—you brought plenty of honor to the family’s name,” I reassured her.  A faint flicker of a grin appeared on her lips, but she was too exhausted to hold it for much longer than that.</p><p>“You set several records,” Europa said.</p><p>Avalon cut her off.  “I know what I did.  You don’t need to remind me.”</p><p>Europa’s brow furrowed.  My older sister, ever the Career, couldn’t fathom why some of us didn’t want to think about our time in the arena.  In her mind, Avalon should be celebrating her successes, not dismissing them.</p><p>I sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to mess up any lines or cables.  “You can put your speech lessons to good use now,” I told her with a grin.</p><p>“Noooo,” she whispered with what I perceived to be humor.  But she was too tired, and with that, she fell right back asleep.</p><p>Europa watched her for a moment before standing up and leaving the room.  Her heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway until they faded and disappeared.  Something about this interaction had set her off, and I suspected it had to do with Avalon’s response to Europa.  Our older sister couldn’t come to terms with the fact that I was not happy with the Hunger Games, and now it might just have been too much to know that Avalon may feel the same way.</p><p>Eventually Europa returned, this time a little more composed, but she said nothing of why she left.</p><p>Avalon woke up again, briefly here and there, but she never stayed awake for very long.</p>
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<a name="section0050"><h2>50. Chapter 50</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I don’t even know what day it is anymore, but Avalon was finally awake enough to have conversations.  Tomorrow she will be able to walk again.  Her nurse assured us that she could walk right now if she need to, but they wanted her to take things slowly to make sure that everything in the healing process was on track.</p><p>Avalon snapped open the top of the small applesauce container on her dinner tray.  “Ugh.  I go from eating 35-trillion kcals a day to eating like three.  This sucks.”</p><p>“If you ate any more, you’d puke,” Europa told her.  “But don’t dawdle—eat it all at a good pace or your stomach will never recover.”</p><p>Avalon rolled her eyes.  “Yes ma’am.”</p><p>They had given her a meager portion of food: applesauce, broth, gelatin.  But she struggled to finish it all.  I remember that.  I remember how hard it is to recover physically, even with the advanced medical procedures that speed up healing.  If you eat well in the arena, it’s not quite as bad, but the hospitalization and the various healing treatments take their toll more than people give them credit for.</p><p>“I’m used to IV nutrients now,” she muttered when Europa ordered her to finish the last of the broth.  “Eating is for losers.”  But she still finished the last drops of her meal.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I remembered sitting in this hospital thinking about a meal I shared with Harold.  We were laughing.  Joking.  I’d kill him.  I knew I would.  But that was in the future, and I didn’t have to think about that right then.  Instead I listened to him share a piece of home with me as he told me about his family and his dogs.  In the hospital, I wondered how his dogs were right now.  Did they know their master had been killed?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>After overseeing Avalon’s meal, Europa excused herself to go talk with Mildred and Blue-Anna about the presentation of the victor in a few days’ time.  Blue-Anna had been given Avalon’s measurements that she will be for the event, and she has to come up with a stunning outfit to show off the newest victor.  But there is always a bit of politics about it, and Europa wasn’t going to let Avalon wear just anything.</p><p>“Isabella,” Avalon said once the door was closed and we were once more alone.</p><p>“Hmm?” I sat down on the edge of her bed.  There were far fewer lines and cables today, and I wasn’t at risk of accidentally pulling them out by sitting here.</p><p>Her eyes were wide, and her skin was still a little waxy and pale.</p><p>“I don’t know how I can watch the presentation.  I—I am ashamed of what I did,” she looked up at me with her large green eyes, pleading for some solution.  Some answer for her to handle the situation that was soon to be thrust upon her.</p><p>My advice wasn’t of much use because I couldn’t really remember watching my presentation more than, as I mentioned before, like it was a distant mentor or a dream.  So how could I tell Avalon how best to prepare herself for this?  One day I’d get all my memories completely back, but that was of no use right now.</p><p>“Avalon, you did what you needed to do in order to survive,” I told her.  “That’s all that any of the other tributes would do.”</p><p>Tears welled up on her eyes.  “No.  No, Isabella, I didn’t,” she whispered.  “I killed <em>nine</em> people.  Isabella, no one has ever done that before.  That’s not survival—that’s murder.”</p><p>Yes, it’s murder.  But the Career in me wanted to point out that those kids were all going to die anyway, whether or not she was the one to kill them.  Right now, though, Avalon didn’t need to hear the Career spiel.  If she wanted that, she would have confided in Europa, not me.</p><p>“It’s survival,” I said to her, pausing only a moment to make sure I had my words right before I continued.  “Because there were two of us who came before you, you needed to change your tactics to survive.  It wasn’t enough just to kill a few and be the last person standing.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” she asked.</p><p>I licked my lips and kept my voice quiet.  “If you didn’t do something outright crazy in the arena, it would have been too predictable.  You wouldn’t have received the sponsors that you did but, moreover, they may have thrown more shit at you.  More muttations to make things exciting.”</p><p>“Like they did with you?” she breathed.</p><p>“I don’t know why they had so many mutts in my arena,” I replied honestly.  “Some say that’s why they did it, but who knows?  The point is that you don’t think killing nine people was survival, but I do.  Because you had to show them that you were different from Europa and me—exactly what you said you’d do in your interview.”</p><p>She drew in a deep, shaky breath as the tears spilled from her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks.  “I-I’m happy to be alive, but I just feel so terrible.”</p><p>“They don’t really sell that part to you when you’re considering going into the Hunger Games, do they?” I asked.  We all knew that we’d kill, but none of us went in knowing what that meant.  It was more of an abstract concept than a reality.</p><p>She shook her head.  “Especially when you don’t get a choice.”</p><p>“I would keep that part of it to yourself,” I said.  “I mean, I don’t mind if you say it to me, but it’s hard to tell who might be listening.”</p><p>“Of course,” she mumbled as she laid back in bed.  Her eyes turned up towards the ceiling.  “How am I going to sit there and watch the recap?”</p><p>“Try to remain as neutral as possible.  If it’s of any comfort, every victor has to go through this,” I said.  “It’s complete bullshit, but I guess it’s part of the price of winning.”</p><p>“Not every victor killed nine people,” she said.  “How do I live with that?”</p><p>“Know that Europa and I are here for you, okay?”  I said.  “We might not have killed nine each, but we did kill, and that still takes its toll.  Promise me that if things ever become too much for you, that you will talk with Europa or me.”</p><p>“I promise,” said Avalon, eyes still on the ceiling.</p><p>“I kind of suck at the pep talks,” I admitted.</p><p>“You’re better than Europa,” Avalon said.</p><p>I snorted.  “That’s not a very high bar you’re setting there.”</p><p>Her lips turned up in a wry smile.  “Gotta aim high.”</p><p>We sat there listening to the muted beeping of the machines telling us that Avalon was alive and well.  It was music, really, after all that we had endured.</p><p>“Isabella, what’s it like to die?”</p><p>I started out of my reverie and turned to her.  “Why do you ask?”</p><p>“I want to know what it’s like,” she said.</p><p>“I guess you’ll find out some day.  In like seventy-five years,” I added.</p><p>She frowned.  That wasn’t the answer she was going for, but I also didn’t think I could tell her what it was really like.  It didn’t make sense.  Dying, that is.  Nothing about it was what I expected.  And even right now, I wasn’t sure I fully understood it.  Maybe, I thought, I didn’t really remember it yet.</p>
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<a name="section0051"><h2>51. Chapter 51</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Avalon took her first steps today.  That sounds silly, doesn’t it?  Like she’s a little kid.  I still remember when we she took her first steps as a baby because I then decided she could go outdoors with Augustus and me, and then our parents flipped out at us for pretty much expecting a baby to keep up with older kids with minimal supervision.</p><p>But today she walked first with the help of a physical therapist and then by herself.</p><p>“It’s not that bad,” she said as she tottered from one side of the room to the other.  Then she looked up at Europa.  “Just don’t let them put me in heels, please.  I don’t want to fall on my face.”</p><p>Europa nodded.  “Noted.”</p><p>“How long before I can run again?” Avalon asked.</p><p>“About three days,” the physical therapist assured her.  She remained by my sister’s side at a distance where she could catch her if she fell.  But Avalon did not look like she would be falling anytime soon.</p><p>At last Avalon was lead back to her bed where she gratefully sat down once more.  A nurse came in and made sure that she was all hooked up to the appropriate machines before finally the three of us were left alone.</p><p>“Isabella, I was thinking . . . if it’s okay with you, I would like to go look for the treasure that you and-um, that you and I buried,” Avalon said.</p><p>Oh shoot.  Neither of us had told her that we weren’t going back to District 1.  There just wasn’t an appropriate time and place to start talking about this.  Hospitals should be private, but it was more likely than not to be entirely monitored for every bit of conversation, especially in a new victor’s room.</p><p>Europa and I exchanged a glance.</p><p>“What?” Avalon asked as she looked between us.  “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“I’m going back to school, Avalon.  Here in the Capitol,” I said.  “I’m not going back to District 1.”</p><p>Avalon’s eyes widened.  “B-but I was serious about wanting to have houses next to each other.”</p><p>“Things have changed,” Europa said.  “The three of us are not going back to District 1.”</p><p>“We think it’s better to get an education here,” I added.</p><p>“’We’?” Avalon’s brows furrowed.  “You two <em>both</em> want to go back to school here?  Europa, you nearly failed out of high school!  Why do you want to go back to school?!”</p><p>She was getting worked up, and the machines started to beep more quickly.</p><p>I reached over and put a hand on her arm.  “I’m sorry.  It would have been best if the three of us had talked it through together, but there wasn’t an opportunity,” I said.  “I’ll explain it later—I can’t right now.”</p><p>“What happened?  While I was in the arena.  What happened to you two?” she asked.</p><p>“Again, can’t explain that right now,” Europa said.  “But we will as soon as we can.  You’ll have to trust us.”</p><p>Avalon appeared skeptical.  She shook her head.  “I just want things to be normal again.  I want to see Mom and Dad.  I’m a victor now, so I should at least <em>see</em> my mansion and go to parties and whatever else I get for doing what I did.”</p><p>“You’re going to get to see a lot of things here in the Capitol,” I reassured her.  “This city is nuts.  There’s so much to do—District 1 pales in comparison.”</p><p>But as soon as I said it, I wondered what else in the Capitol she would be exposed to.  I thought about the night of the finale, and how I was willing to do anything and everything to make sure Avalon got out of the arena alive had she not forbidden it.  Those people who were so eager to pray on desperate victors would be eager to snatch up any young victor who crossed their path and didn’t know better.  I suppressed a shudder at the thought that the Capitol had wanted to physically enhance her in a way that would make her more attractive to them.</p><p>“But Mom and Dad?” she asked.</p><p>“We’ll visit them,” Europa assured her.</p><p>They would.  I wouldn’t.  I’d never be able to step foot back in my home district again.  I had been doing very well not thinking about it, but now something within me yearned to be back in our yard with the great sprawling fields and the tightly knit copses of trees.  My stomach clenched knowing that it would never again happen.</p><p>Avalon didn’t look convinced.</p><p>“You trusted me to get you through the arena, didn’t you?” Europa asked.  “To keep watching you and to make sure that I sent you sponsorships and all?”</p><p>Avalon nodded.</p><p>“Then trust me on this,” Europa said.  “Please?”</p><p>“As long as you actually tell me what’s going on the first moment you get,” Avalon said.  “Then I promise.”</p><p>Europa exhaled with relief.  “Yes, of course.”</p><p>I hadn’t realized that Avalon would want to go home, and I never would have thought that she’d want to be back with Mom and Dad.  In my mind, she was just as aware of the situation as I was, which is a stupid thing to think, now that I reflect on it.  I guess I just assumed that since Mom and Dad had forced her to go into the arena against her will that she would have harbored animosity towards them.  But she didn’t.  She missed them and she wanted to go back.</p><p>Maybe once things settled out here she would become more comfortable with the idea of staying in the Capitol, especially after we explained to her what was happening.  But my stomach rolled with the prospect that she might not be satisfied until she set foot back in District 1.</p><p> </p><p><em>There was a certain thrill in killing.  It wasn’t the fact that you were taking somebody else’s life but the fact that you were doing what you were born to do.  That you were living out your goals and ambitions right here.  It was tangible.  And as the sword plunged into the tribute, I could only think, </em>You cannot doubt me now.  You cannot deny that I am as good as Europa, and I will not live in her shadow.  <em>But it was the terror, a startlingly human emotion, in the District 8 girl’s eyes that made me realize that I was taking a life to show that I was as good as someone else.  Anger flared up within me at the realization.  There was only one person left I had to kill to be out of here.  And what awaited me after that?  What awaited me back home?  The adrenaline from the kill overrode any thoughts, any doubts, just as I expected it would.  I stood back up and turned towards Harold to do what I was born to do.</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>What would await Avalon back in District 1?  Would she receive the hero’s welcome she thought she deserved, or would she only be used as a tool to achieve somebody else’s goals?</p>
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<a name="section0052"><h2>52. Chapter 52</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I returned to my apartment last night, and no sooner had I set foot in my room than Isolde strolled into the apartment with an extra key I’d given her long ago.</p><p>“Hey,” she said cautiously as I stuck my head out of the bedroom.</p><p>“You didn’t even knock,” I said.  “You should be glad I have clothes on.”</p><p>She didn’t laugh at this but just shrugged her purse off and tossed it near the coat hanger that went unused more often than not.  Then she motioned for me to sit down on the couch.  I meandered over and lowered myself into the comfortable cushions.</p><p>“I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” she said as she sat down opposite me.  When I didn’t answer right away, she continued, “You and Europa seem to have made up.”</p><p>I shrugged.  “It’s a bit more . . . complicated than that,” I said.  “Europa was out of line, but she had her reasons.  And—I’m really not at liberty to discuss more, not at this time.”</p><p>I met Isolde’s eyes.  She sat back into the couch.  “Just like that?”</p><p>“Yeah, more or less,” I said.  “There’s stuff we still have to work out, but we have to focus on Avalon right now.”</p><p>It was hard to determine if Isolde believed what I was saying.  I couldn’t blame her if she didn’t.  After all, very infrequently were issues resolved in one conversation alone, so it seemed very suspicious if all our problems vanished with a snap.</p><p>“Alright, Isabella,” she said at last.  “But if you need anything—”</p><p>“—I’ll come to you and Hammer,” I finished for her with annoyance.  But I was smiling at her.  What would I do without her?  Standing up, I headed to the kitchen.  “You want something to drink?”</p><p>“Whatever you’re having,” she replied.</p><p>In the kitchen, I busied myself setting a kettle to boil.  As it did so, I pulled some cookies out of the cupboard and set them on a plate.  It was mindless work, and it let me pass the time without really doing any thinking.  When the water in the kettle came to a boil, I poured it into two mugs with tea bags and then balanced the mugs and plate as I walked back towards the sitting room.</p><p>“Hope tea is okay,” I said.  “I know it’s the middle of summer.”</p><p>“That’s just fine,” Isolde said as she took one of the mugs from me.</p><p>I sat down and placed the plate of cookies on the end table where we could both reach.  She immediately leaned over and snagged one.</p><p>“Um, how does one enroll in university?” I asked her.</p><p>She raised an eyebrow, but was immediately distracted as she bit into the cookie and crumbs rolled down her shirt.</p><p>“For you or for Cassiopeia?” she asked as she tried to pick off the bigger crumbs and set them back on the plate.</p><p>“For me.  And for Europa.  And Avalon,” I said.</p><p>Now she really gave me a look of surprise.  “I don’t suppose I can ask why?”</p><p>“My family is insane and Europa and I have decided it’s better to stay here in the Capitol,” I rushed out before I had the chance to back out.</p><p>“Uh huh,” Isolde said.  She waited until she was done chewing before she continued, “Call the university’s main number.  I’ll text it to you if you want.  And then they’ll just take your info and get you all hooked up.  You can probably register all three of you with one call.  Classes don’t start for several weeks, though, so you’ll have to find a way to keep yourselves occupied until then.”</p><p>That would be a challenge.  There were many things to do, as I mentioned, but I wasn’t certain how well I’d be able to keep Avalon’s attention so that she wasn’t tempted to leave us.  The thought began to gnaw its way into my brain, and I knew that it would be keeping me awake tonight as I tried to pull it out before it latched on too deeply.</p><p>“I think I will be unofficial tour guide of the city,” I said.  “I also promised Cassiopeia that I’d show her around.”</p><p>“So she said.”</p><p>“You talked with Cassiopeia?” I asked.</p><p>“Yeah,” Isolde shrugged.  “She was pretty much a mess after her tribute died.  They were having trouble removing her from the mentor room.”</p><p>Oh.  I didn’t even think about her and what she was going through with her tribute.  I was so wrapped up in what Avalon was experiencing—what I was experiencing—that I didn’t give her a second thought.  I supposed it wasn’t too selfish of me, all things considered, but I still felt a tinge of guilt that I hadn’t at least contemplated talking to her.</p><p>“Is she okay?” I asked hesitantly.</p><p>“As okay as any victor is the first year as mentor,” Isolde replied.</p><p>The tea was still too hot to drink, but I took a sip anyhow.  The steam on my cheeks warmed up my brain a little bit.</p><p>“Avalon’s having a hard time dealing with what she did,” I started.  “She—”</p><p>But that was as far as I got before my phone vibrated.  With a groan of irritation, I leaned over and dug it out of my backpack where it had sunk to the bottom.  I hadn’t even sat back in my seat before I saw the message: <em>Get to the hospital.  It’s Avalon.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0053"><h2>53. Chapter 53</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Isolde and I burst into the victor corridor where Avalon was being held only to be stopped by Mildred and Blue-Anna.</p><p>“What’s going on?” I demanded, frantically trying to push past them.</p><p>“Everything’s okay,” Mildred reassured me.  “Your sister just needed some extra sedation.”</p><p>Extra sedation?  Why?  She was supposed to be up and moving so that she could get ready for the presentation of the victor.  Neither the escort nor the stylist was going to let me see her, and they formed a wall to keep me from rushing down the hallway.</p><p>Finally I burst through them and hurried into Avalon’s bedroom where she lay on her hospital bed completely unconscious.  The machines continued to beep, but nothing about it was calming anymore.  Avalon was supposed to be awake right now, trying on her outfit and complaining about how her flats still weren’t comfortable enough and she’d rather be in tennis shoes.</p><p>Europa sat slumped in the chair by her bedside and straightened up as soon as she saw me.</p><p>“She tried to kill one of the nurses,” my older sister said before I had a chance to ask.  “They say that it’s not uncommon, but she was almost successful.”</p><p>“Almost?” I said with a bit of surprise.  We’d just seen her in the arena take out nine people.  She must’ve been weaker than I thought.</p><p>“The only reason she didn’t was because they found her curled up in a pool of the nurse’s blood mumbling a bunch of nonsense.” Europa seemed to understand my confusion.</p><p>I flopped down in the other free chair in the room.</p><p>“She’s only fifteen,” I said.  “This was all too much for her.  She should have waited.”</p><p>Europa sniffled.  “You wouldn’t think that waiting a couple years would make a difference,” she said.  “I guess I was so selfish that I didn’t even think about it, for either of you.  I was eighteen, and you were seventeen, but really I shouldn’t have encouraged you to go that year.  I shouldn’t have encouraged you at all, I should have—”</p><p>“We don’t have to talk about this again,” I interrupted.</p><p>But Europa was still talking, “Plenty of kids go to the Hunger Games when they’re younger.  Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.  Esther was only thirteen when she won.  And Basil and Lady were both fifteen.  I don’t think any of <em>them</em> tried to kill hospital staff or were found lying in pools of other people’s blood.”</p><p>“Europa!” I exclaimed.</p><p>She snapped her attention to me.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter what age anyone is,” I told her.  “You get messed up anyhow.”</p><p>“I know it’s hard and stressful, but I don’t know that ‘messed up’ is the term that I’d—”</p><p>“For the first year after you returned, you’d wander down the hallways in the middle of the night crying,” I told her.  We’d never spoken of this before, and the surprise on her face made me realize that she was not aware of these nightly walks.  “Sometimes you’d just, like, <em>wail</em>.  You were like a ghost—you’d just kind of drift around everywhere.  And if someone tried to talk to you, you acted like you couldn’t see them.”</p><p>“No, that’s—”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s true.  I promise you.  Nobody said anything because, well, nobody talks about that sort of stuff, I guess,” I said.  “And I don’t know how long it lasted.  Maybe you still do it.  But after that I was mostly in my own place, so I don’t know.”</p><p>Europa sat there with her mouth slightly opened and her eyes blank.  I guess I had thought that she had known, at least to some extent, and it was selfish of me to never tell her about it.  My heart thumped in my chest as I waited for her to say something to acknowledge what I just said.</p><p>“That’s like . . . you . . . spacing out randomly,” she muttered.</p><p>“What?” I asked.  Now I was confused.</p><p>“Yeah, sometimes I’m talking to you—or maybe I’m just in the same room as you—and then I see you just stop what you’re doing,” she said.  “Sometimes it’s just a couple seconds, and other times it’s for a couple minutes.  Started when you came home.”</p><p>“Mom and Dad said I’ve always been a bit spacy,” I said defensively.</p><p>Europa shook her head.  “Not like that.  You were never spacy—they were just being assholes because you weren’t doing things perfectly.”</p><p>No, really?  I stared down at my hands.  The nail polish I had applied before coming to the Capitol this time around had started to flake off in a couple of places.  Leaving blank spaces.  Like in my mind.  Little gaps that weren’t really that noticeable, and once you were no longer focused on them were easily forgotten.</p><p>“I . . . was remembering,” I whispered at the sudden realization.  “And forgetting.”</p><p>Europa looked at me curiously, so I explained, “This sounds really stupid, but I forgot about my time in the arena.  In entirety.  I must’ve been . . . remembering and then forgetting again.”</p><p>“You forgot about being in the Hunger Games?” Europa stared at me.</p><p>I shook my head.  “No, I remember that I went.  I just couldn’t remember what happened in the arena.  But because it’s so dumb, I just covered it all up.  Who would think that a Career victor would <em>want</em> to forget about her Hunger Games?  I remember it now.  I made myself.  Isolde—” I looked around, for the first time realizing that she had been by my side when I came in the room but was now gone “—she helped me not forget it this time.”</p><p>Oh, this was all so horrible!  Could it be that I had been remembering and forgetting so much?  Here I thought that I had forgotten everything at once, but to know that I was remembering and then <em>actively shutting it out</em> was even worse.  For years.</p><p>“I can’t believe you haven’t noticed,” Europa said.  “You’ve been doing it more the past couple days since Avalon won.  I thought you were just tired or something.”</p><p>Yes.  I had been getting little flickers of memories recently.  But this time, I wasn’t shutting them out.  I let them come to me and I just dealt with them as they appeared.  I hadn’t known that other people could <em>see</em> me remembering.</p><p>“How awkward,” I said with strain.</p><p>“No more so than sleepwalking nightly,” Europa countered.  “And 'wailing' while doing so.”</p><p>“I must’ve seem like such an insensitive asshole,” I admitted.  “Thinking that I was above the Hunger Games.  But I’m not.  Just like you and Avalon.”</p><p>“I’m not going to spare your feelings and tell you that you weren’t,” Europa said.</p><p>I stared at Avalon lying on the bed in a medically-induced sleep.  Europa walks in her sleep.  I space out randomly.  Cassiopeia hears voices.  In what wonderful way would Avalon be constantly tortured from her time in the arena?  My poor little sister, so young and fragile as she lay there wrapped in blankets.  To know that she would be burdened with the guilt and fear that we all felt upon starting what was supposed to be an honored and celebratory period of her life—it was sickening.</p><p>“She can’t just be sedated for all eternity,” I said, my eyes still on her sleeping form.</p><p>“One way or another, she’ll have to deal with this,” Europa said.  “I don’t know how.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0054"><h2>54. Chapter 54</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How’re you feeling?” I asked Avalon as Blue-Anna put the finishing touches on her dress.</p><p>Avalon smiled at me.  “Great!  But I think that’s also the drugs speaking,” she said with a laugh.</p><p>Yeah, probably.  Once she got through this event and the subsequent party, we’d have to figure out how the hell she’d deal with her crap.  But right now, all eyes would be on her when she was raised up onto the stage, and we couldn’t have her freaking out.  So drugs it was.</p><p>The dress Blue-Anna had made was absolutely perfect.  She didn’t look like a fierce terror that had killed nine people.  She was only a girl with a large smile and dazzlingly green eyes, and that was what the dress and make up highlighted.  The dress came down over her knees so that when she sat down, she wouldn’t have to be worried about modesty, and it covered her collarbone daintily.  Her eyeshadow was thick, but it was in earthen tones that would look natural on her once she was under the bright lights.  Her hair was drawn back and braided so that it was up off her neck, with only a couple ringlets on each side next to her cheeks.  She looked like a princess, really.</p><p>And Blue-Anna had been working overtime because even though Avalon was the center of attention, she wanted to make sure that all three of us were coordinated.  Our dresses weren’t matching, but they had enough of the same elements to illustrate that we were all together now—a trio.  If the Capitol wanted one of us, it would have to deal with all three of us.</p><p>“You’re gorgeous, Avalon,” Europa said as she walked up.  “Blue-Anna did a wonderful job.”</p><p>From behind our sister, Blue-Anna blushed.  She pushed the last button into place and then stepped back.  “There you go, dear.”</p><p>“Come on, let’s go get ready,” Europa said.  She threw me a teasing look.  “While loser Isabella goes and finds her seat.”</p><p>I rolled my eyes but took my cue to leave.</p><p> </p><p>Out in the audience, I sat in between Isolde and Jericho.  The two of them looked nearly as thrilled as me to be here right now.</p><p>“You excited?” Isolde asked.</p><p>“Of course she is,” said Jericho.</p><p>Isolde pursed her lips at him.  “It was just making polite talk.  I <em>know</em> that she is excited, but I wanted to hear it from her.”</p><p>Jericho mumbled something about needing more male District 1 victors.</p><p>“Yeah.  Can’t wait for it to be over, though,” I said.  “I need some sort of normalcy again.”</p><p>I remembered with a start that I wasn’t going back to District 1 and things would never be normal for me again.  Or, at least, I would have to create a new normal here in the Capitol which would take quite some adjusting.  I would have to pick Isolde’s brain some other time on how to survive life here under the constant spotlight.</p><p>Caligula Klora walked onstage amidst sudden cheering.  A massive smile was plastered onto his face, like he couldn’t fully express his happiness at the situation but it was exaggerated for show.  Once the cheering settled down, he gave a brief greeting and then invited us to turn our attention to the team that had helped our newest victor.</p><p>The prep team, the stylist, the escort.  It was the same thing every year, just different people.  And now they were raising Europa, the mentor, up onto the stage.  The cheering died down for the briefest of seconds until Avalon appeared, absolutely stunning in the twinkling stage lights.  And then everyone went nuts, just like they had been at my presentation, or possibly maybe louder.  Europa and Avalon hugged and that sent them off more.</p><p>“I can’t believe how honored we are to have not one but three of you Vitners as victors now,” said Caligula.  “I know I can speak for everyone here that it’s been an absolute joy watching all three of you grow and develop through your respective Hunger Games.”</p><p>“Thank you, Caligula,” Europa said.</p><p>“Now, I think that it’s about time to watch the recap,” he said as he gestured to the large throne that was set in the middle of the stage for Avalon to sit.</p><p>Europa and Avalon didn’t move.  Caligula picked up their hesitation right away.</p><p>“Something wrong, ladies?” he asked.</p><p>“I know this is not entirely traditional, Caligula, but I do hope that we can swing it,” Europa began.  “I was hoping that Isabella and I would be able to sit with Avalon tonight.”</p><p>The crowd started cheering at the request.</p><p>“Oh, my!  I sure don’t see why not!” Caligula said, taken aback.  No one had ever asked for something like this.  As soon as the victor entered and sat down, he or she was completely abandoned in that throne for the entire country to watch while the recap was played.  I’m sure that it was some sort of final punishment—something to show them that they were truly alone—but not tonight.  Not for us Vitners.</p><p>Already avoxes were starting to pull out extra chairs not nearly as regal but still quite impressive, and it occurred to me that they may have arranged this in advance.  This twist was entirely new to me, and my heart thumped at the thought of walking up on that stage and sitting there for the entire recap.</p><p><em>But,</em> I told myself.  <em>I will do it for Avalon.</em></p><p>“Where is Isabella?” Caligula asked.</p><p>Okay.  I pushed myself out of my seat and began to make my way through the row of people who tried their hardest to move their knees and feet out of my way.  It took a moment, but I managed to get to the stairs and step onstage.</p><p>“Welcome, Isabella!” the interviewer greeted me.  “It’s a pleasure to have you here with your sisters tonight.”</p><p>I smiled at him.  It wasn’t a fake smile because I knew that had things gone even a hair differently, I would not have this opportunity.  Never again would I have been able to sit beside Avalon, just like I could never again sit near Augustus.</p><p>“Thank you for accommodating us,” I replied.</p><p>He gave a little bow and wave as he ushered me over to the seat.  Avalon sat in the middle and Europa sat on one side with me on the other.</p><p>
  <em>Nothing like a big “fuck you” to our parents.</em>
</p><p>“Alright, you ladies comfortable?” Caligula asked.  We nodded and he chuckled.  “Then on with the show!”</p><p>The lights dimmed and large screens dropped down from the ceiling so that no matter where you sat in the audience, you’d be able to see the recap without an issue.  And, of course, there was one for us.  It was a shimmery, gauzy sort of fabric so that we could see the show and everyone could still see us.  Plus there were cameras on us, the three of us, and I knew that they would be judging our reaction at every moment.</p><p>And the video played.  Two hours of bloodshed and violence captured on television.  Of the twenty-three tributes who died, eighteen were killed by other tributes.  And nine of those were killed by Avalon.  At one point, she grabbed my hand and I held hers tightly in my own.  She wasn’t proud of what she had done, but she had to pretend that it was the greatest thing that ever happened to her.  How would she have sat through this without Europa and me?  My hand ached by the time the movie came to an end, but as the lights turned back on and the crowd cheered for us, all three of us stood up and waved.</p><p>Avalon took a step forward and the crowd screamed hysterically.</p><p>Here it was.  The end of an era.  The last of the Vitner children.  History books would talk about us, how all three children in one family went to the Hunger Games and emerged victorious.  They would talk about how cutthroat and brutal we were, how we worked so efficiently in our respective arenas.  We would be held as the pinnacle of Careerhood for all kids who came after us.</p><p>
  <em>How many families would be encouraged by us and torture their children to make them fit for the arena?</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0055"><h2>55. Chapter 55</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Now, Avalon, you need to listen carefully,” Europa said, still not finished with her mentor duties.  The three of us with Mildred and Blue-Anna were sitting in the comfort of a limo en route to the party.  “This party gets a little . . . strange.  You’re going to stay with Isabella and me no matter what, okay?”</p><p>“Yes, <em>mother,</em>” Avalon grumped.</p><p>I pinched her arm and she yelped.</p><p>“Europa’s being serious,” I scolded her.  “People drink too much and get a little too comfortable.  They forget about personal space.”</p><p>“But I’ll break anyone’s arm if they try anything,” Europa reassured her.</p><p>Avalon looked at us skeptically like she wasn’t sure how serious we were.  But we were serious.  There was no hint of a smile on either of our faces.</p><p>Capitol parties could get pretty personal very quickly.  You’ve probably already figured that out by what I’ve written about previous parties.  I hated to think of Avalon being subjected to the groping hands and errant lips.  Even if she wasn’t still a teenager, it would disgust me to know that someone would want to do that to my sister.</p><p>At last our limo arrived at the Presidential Palace, the president’s own mansion.  The vehicle slowed down and an avox opened the door.  Avalon climbed out first, followed by Europa and then me.  The stylist and escort came after us.</p><p>“This is it,” Mildred said, putting a hand on Avalon’s shoulder.  “Did you ever think you’d see a building so grand?”</p><p>“Yes,” Avalon said with confidence.  “I always knew I’d follow in Europa and Isabella’s footsteps.”</p><p>Cocky little creature.  I shot her a look but she only smiled smugly at me.</p><p>“Do we link arms or what?” she asked us.</p><p>“No,” Europa and I answered in unison.</p><p> </p><p>The Presidential Palace was massive and even though we were allowed to only see a tiny sliver of it, it was more than enough for the people invited to this party.  There were hundreds of people here, though all of them were somebody wealthy or famous enough to be invited personally.  Every single victor was here—at least all of the ones able to come to the Capitol at this time—but most of the stylists, prep teams, and escorts were not.  Only the team associated with the newest victor had been invited.  Milling through the crowd were also Gamemakers and other people who had direct responsibility for this arena in particular such as top researchers and scientists.  It was a great honor to be invited, and only those who had performed well received such welcome.</p><p>The new victors never knew what a dangerous group of people they were about to plunge into, and perhaps it was for the better.</p><p>“I’ve never seen so much food!” Avalon gawked as we reached the tables full of all sorts of edible things: petite sandwiches, caviar, dainty cakes, beverages of all sorts, dishes of ice cream.  It was a feast that could easily feed a thousand people.  “Too bad that I can only have like 500 kcal a day right now.”</p><p>“If anyone hands you the blue drink right there—that one that looks like window cleaner—don’t drink it,” I leaned in so she could hear me.</p><p>“Is it window cleaner?” she asked.</p><p>“No, it makes you puke.  They love it here because then they can just keep eating,” I explained.</p><p>“I mean, I guess if that’s what makes them happy,” Avalon replied, staring wide-eyed at a table filled with a hundred shot glasses of blue liquid.  But she followed easily away from the table and towards one that had tiny little desserts that looked like miniature fires burning down blackened trees.  “Wow, geeze.”</p><p>“Just eat,” Europa said, picking up an empty plate and thrusting it in her hands.  “Not too much, though.”</p><p>Europa oversaw the choosing of food items and made sure that our little sister wasn’t gorging herself.  Meanwhile, I kept a close eye on the people near us.  Many of them I recognized from over the years, but I didn’t know their names.</p><p>Then I felt a hand on my lower back, and I jerked around to find Felix Dionysus standing beside me.</p><p>“Well, if it isn’t the Vitner victors,” he said pleasantly.  “It’s nice to see the three of you here together.”</p><p>“Felix,” Europa said, doing her best to mask her surprise and contempt.  She smiled at him.  “Pleasure to see you here.”</p><p>Felix’s hand slid a little lower on my back.  I turned and stared at him, doing my best to keep my smile from sliding off my lips.</p><p>“I had the honor of spending the finale with Isabella,” he told my sisters.  “And I see that I get to meet the newest victor, too.”</p><p>“Avalon, this is Felix Dionysus,” Europa said.</p><p>Avalon swallowed the mouthful of food she had jammed in moments before.  “Nice to meet you, sir.”</p><p>Felix laughed.  “Ever the delight,” he said.  “Now, I have to leave, but I wanted to make sure to say hello.  And Isabella, next time I offer you assistance, it would be good for you to take me up on it.  Things could have turned out very differently.”  He lowered his voice and whispered in my ear, “Consider this your warning.”</p><p>Then he kissed me on the lips and then wandered away.</p><p>“Eww,” Avalon started, but Europa elbowed her in the ribs.</p><p>“What was that about, Isabella?” my older sister asked.</p><p>I stood there, stunned, not certain what to make of that interaction.  Fear prickled my skin and I rubbed my arm to hide the goosebumps that came over me.  I didn’t think that I <em>needed</em> to take him up on his offer.  I thought it was literally an offer that came with some strings attached.  But now I see that it wasn’t just that.  Where I thought I had tactfully handled the situation, I had failed to see that there really had been only one right answer and I hadn’t taken it.</p><p>“I, um, I—” I started.</p><p>“Nevermind,” Europa said.  “We can’t let Avalon eat all this food herself.”</p><p>But I felt her eyes on me even when I turned away to the table of sweets.  She was trying to pry into me and determine what had happened at the party that she had missed.  And what offer, I’m sure she wanted to know, had I turned down?</p><p> </p><p>The other victors were intrigued by us, and several came over to say hello and introduce themselves to Avalon.  Most of the time they stay away from the new victor unless they were good friends with the mentor.  I think we all remembered how it felt to be new and overwhelmed by it all.  Besides, many of the victors were also mentors, and their tributes had just died.  Nine of them had died at Avalon’s hands.</p><p>“Hey, Isabella,” Cassiopeia said as she walked over.  “Is this your sister?”</p><p>Of course it was, but she was waiting to be introduced, so I made brief introductions.</p><p>She smiled at Avalon, but it was a tired, weary sort of smile.  “I’m happy for you,” Cassiopeia told me after she and my sister had exchanged some polite words with each other.  “I’m just . . . I don’t know.  It’s all so overwhelming.”</p><p>“Mentoring is hard work,” I agreed.  “I’m just glad it’s over for the time being.”</p><p>“All good things must come to an end,” Cassiopeia agreed.</p><p>“Hey,” I said before she had a chance to disappear back into the crowd.  “Are you still up for sightseeing?”</p><p>She smiled, this time it was a little stronger.  “I am.  But I’ll be going back to District 5 soon—only temporarily.  I’m . . . starting university this fall.  In the Capitol.”</p><p>“Me too,” I said, and her expression immediately brightened.</p><p>From my side, Avalon shot me a look.  My stomach churned and I pretended that I didn’t see the way she regarded me with irritation.  Clearly she hadn’t accepted the fact that we would not be returning to District 1.  Europa and I would have to tell her as soon as we could, but it went without saying that here was not the right place.</p><p>“Hopefully we’ll be in some of the same classes,” Cassiopeia said.  But we didn’t get much further in the conversation before James appeared and dragged her away, saying that it was time to dance.</p><p>The three of us continued to mingle with people and exchange polite words with those who, at one point (or perhaps even still), wanted us dead.  Now everything was happy and celebratory.</p><p>One man came up and told Avalon that she was pretty clever for putting the bandana around her face so fast in the burned forest.  And then, when we looked at him with confusion, he introduced himself as one of the arena architects who had designed the fires that blazed through the trees.</p><p>A woman kissed all three of us on the cheeks and ranted about how amazing Avalon’s nine kills were.  “You truly are your grandmother’s granddaughter,” she sighed before she headed away to chat with her friends.</p><p>Another woman tried to pry Avalon away from us, promising her that she had some friends out on the verandah who would just <em>love</em> to meet her.  She pressed herself against Avalon as she leaned in to whisper, loudly, that the real party was out there.</p><p>“Europa will break your arm if you don’t let go of her,” I told the woman with a smile despite Europa’s wide eyes and frantic head shaking behind the woman’s back.</p><p>The woman looked up at me with surprise and fascination.  “You little Vitners!  Feisty even outside the arena, aren’t you?”</p><p>“It runs in the family,” I said.  “But where is this verandah?  We’d love to join you.”</p><p>“Oh.  It was only for—oh, never you mind,” the woman said with forced pleasantness.  “I’ll chat with you girls later.”</p><p>Europa pinched me for that one.  “What the hell, Isabella?” she demanded.</p><p>“She was being rude to Avalon,” I replied, rubbing the sore spot on my arm.  “What else was I supposed to do?”</p><p>“Let’s just get through this party,” she mumbled, nudging Avalon and me towards a new gathering of vile people.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0056"><h2>56. Chapter 56</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was late by the time we arrived back at my place, where we had decided to crash until we figured out a more permanent solution.  Avalon’s large eyes were bleary with exhaustion, and as soon as we got in, she insisted I show her to her bedroom and bathroom.  I gave her some of my clothing and left her to her own devices.</p><p>I went to my own room, removed my dress, and jumped in the shower.  By the time I put on my night clothes and headed back into the kitchen, Europa was already making us peanut butter sandwiches.</p><p>“So,” she said.  “That was an eventful party.”</p><p>“My favorite part was when that one guy didn’t go to the bathroom fast enough after drinking five shots of the vomit drink,” I said as I sat down in one of the stools at the counter.  “I think it’s the first time I’ve seen someone get carted away by ambulance at a party.”</p><p>Europa slid a sandwich in front of me.</p><p>“I’m more curious what exactly Felix was talking about,” she said with forced casualness.</p><p>I sighed.  Of course.  She wanted to know and I couldn’t blame her for being curious.  How was I going to explain this without pissing her off?</p><p>“During the finale,” I said carefully, choosing my words with caution so as to limit Europa’s inevitable anger.  “Felix offered to save Avalon.”</p><p>“And you didn’t take him up on it,” she said.  Not a question.</p><p>I shook my head.</p><p>“Because of the repercussions?” she asked, an edge in her voice.  I knew where this was going.  I knew that she expected me to take whatever offers were needed regardless of how I’d be required to pay it back.  That’s what she did for me, and I’m sure that she also did for Avalon.</p><p>“She didn’t need it,” I said.  “She was fighting just fine.”</p><p>“Just fine?!” Europa’s voice rose.  “She almost died.  She was shot with a crossbow, fell out of a tree, broke multiple bones, and then was almost killed!  And you’re calling it just fine?!”</p><p>I shrugged but couldn’t meet her eye.  “I guess . . . I just thought that she could pull through.”</p><p>Not an outright lie, but certainly not the full truth.  She’d never believe me if I told her what Avalon had confided in me, even if I felt like I could say it without betraying Avalon’s trust that she had told it to me in secret.</p><p>“Fuck, Isabella, she almost died!  It doesn’t matter what you have to do because it’s not about you!  Ugh!” Europa slammed the peanut butter knife down into the sink and glared up at the ceiling muttering to herself.  “We could have lost her.  She could have died, and then it would have been your fault that—”</p><p>“I know,” I cut her off.  “I know.  That occurred to me.  But she didn’t need any extra help, so. . . .”</p><p>“Really, that’s your position on this?” Europa demanded.  “After all I had to do to make sure that you became victor?!”</p><p>There was motion out of the corner of my eye.  I turned to see Avalon shuffling out of her room.  She entered the kitchen and climbed up onto one of the stools where she rested her chin in her hands.</p><p>“It’s because I told her not to,” she said to Europa.  “Before the Hunger Games.  I told her that I didn’t want to win just because of my name.”</p><p>“This wasn’t just your name,” Europa said, forcing herself to be calmer for our sister’s sake.  “You almost died and Isabella could have saved you!”</p><p>“I understand that,” Avalon assured her.  “But I’d rather die than know that I was victor just because my sister whored herself out to some rich guy to kill my opponent in the finale.”</p><p>None of us said anything.  There were many things we could have said, and those words floated around us in invisible clouds threatening to drench us at any moment.  But Avalon’s words were damned blunt, and we were stunned into silence.</p><p>Avalon reached over for the jar of peanut butter and unscrewed it.  “I know what victors have to do sometimes to try to get their tributes home.  I’ve been around you guys long enough.  So stop looking at me like that.”</p><p>She stuck her finger in the jar, scooped out some peanut butter, and plopped the glob in her mouth.</p><p>“You . . . told Isabella this, but not me?” Europa asked quietly.</p><p>“You wouldn’t have listened to me,” Avalon said.  “You would do anything and everything to get me home, regardless of what it cost.  Which, don’t get me wrong, is not a bad thing.  But . . . I didn’t want to win just so I’d be the third of us to do so.”</p><p>“Well, you won out of your own right and there was no interference in the finale,” Europa said.  “Fair and square.  At least, as fair as the Hunger Games typically are.”</p><p>I took a bite out of my sandwich and chewed slowly.</p><p>“Do you think Felix is going to do anything, or was that really just a warning?” I asked aloud, swallowing a chunk of peanut butter and bread with extra effort.  I wasn’t sure what to believe anymore.  I’m pretty good at seeing between the lines, but this went well beyond my depth.  “I didn’t think that it was a mandatory offer.  I honestly thought that he was giving me an option.”</p><p>Europa leaned back against the counter and looked at me.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “But I wouldn’t worry about that right now.  It was stupid that you didn’t take up the offer.  Let’s not talk any more of this.”</p><p>It was getting far too late to be awake anyhow.  We had an interview in the morning.  The other victors would already be leaving the Capitol on their way home, their trains empty.  But the new victor would stay in town for another couple days for several interviews, a couple photoshoots, and maybe another party or two.  At tomorrow’s interview, we’d have to announce that we planned to stay in the city so that the people at home didn’t anticipate us on the arriving train in a few days and throw us a welcome home party.</p><p>“Let’s go to bed,” Europa said.</p><p>“Uh-uh,” Avalon objected as she dipped her finger back into the jar.  “You guys need to tell me what you’ve been keeping secret.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0057"><h2>57. Chapter 57</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“When we get back to District 1, Mom and Dad are going to kill me because they think that I am a liability and will blab about Augustus, thus putting them in danger for covering his death up.”</p><p>Avalon looked blankly at me for a second.</p><p>“No, but really,” she said.</p><p>Europa rolled her eyes at me.  “That wasn’t the most eloquent way to word it, but yes, what Isabella said is true.”</p><p>So we sat there and explained the whole thing to her.  Avalon licked the lid of the peanut butter jar as she listened.  It was hard to tell if she believed us or not, but at least she was paying attention.  I wondered if it was going to make a difference.  If she still wanted to see Mom and Dad after what they just put her through. . . .</p><p><em>Hadn’t I?</em> I thought.  When I came home from the arena, I still wanted to go home and, well, receive my welcome from them.  I had wanted to see their faces when I arrived so that they could have no doubts that I was victorious.</p><p>What if it was different for Avalon and she wanted to actually be back with them?  Would I lose the little sister I fought hard to keep?</p><p>“So how much money <em>did</em> they spend to cover up Augustus’ death?” Avalon asked Europa.</p><p>“I’m not certain.  They had a lot of money on me to make up their debts, but that’s all I know.  They didn’t entirely share this part with me, so I didn’t get many details,” Europa said.  She watched as Avalon began to eat directly from the peanut butter jar once again.  “You’re going to make yourself sick.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Avalon insisted.</p><p>“What would have happened if you hadn’t been chosen as volunteer?” I asked our big sister.  “It’s not like Mom and Dad would be able to pay someone off to get you in, not if they were using you to pay back their previous debts.”</p><p>Europa’s attention was no longer on keeping Avalon from gorging herself on peanut butter.  She stared at the granite countertop and dragged her finger across the smooth surface.  It’s a complicated process, as I mentioned.  In order to be chose, you have to have the skill but unless you’re <em>completely outstanding</em> in training and have gotten accolades from multiple sources, it’s not enough on its own.  Normally you need connections to push you through.  It is a combination of who you know and what you know that would get you into the arena.</p><p>“Mom and Dad knew some people,” Europa replied.</p><p>“I didn’t realize they were that well connected,” Avalon said.  “But then again, I was like eleven at the time, so maybe I didn’t know anything.”</p><p>“They weren’t.  I mean, they have their connections, but I’m not sure they could have done it on their own,” Europa said.  She took a deep breath as she continued to move her fingers across the counter.  “They have power, but not <em>that</em> much power.”</p><p>“Then how?” I asked.</p><p>Europa’s interest in the counter grew to the point where I thought that there was something wrong with the stone.  When she spoke again, I forgot all about the countertop: “Remember our trainer?  He was connected.  Mom and Dad bribed him that if he got me into the running as a contender to volunteer, he could, um; well, when I won, I’d. . . .”</p><p>She cleared her throat and swept back her hair nervously.  She still couldn’t look at us.</p><p>“They promised me to him for a few months after I won,” she finished.</p><p>I swallowed hard and stared at her.  That was the sort of garbage that went on in the Capitol, not in the districts!  And from our own parents?!</p><p>“Like, to help him help other potential Careers train?” Avalon asked.  When Europa flicked a glance at her, Avalon’s eyes widened with realization.  “Oh-oh!  Oh, shit!  What the hell?!  Mom and Dad did that?”</p><p>The longer I sat with this thought, the more I realized that yes, I could see this happening.  I had absolutely no clue that it was going on because I had an extremely tight schedule between school and training, but looking back, I could see that my parents were desperate enough that it was actually a possibility that they took it to that level.</p><p>I thought of our trainer, a handsome man in his late twenties or early thirties at the time; he was a former Career-hopeful himself, and he never lost the physique or mindset.  But we had always viewed him as our teacher, not someone to be on such familiar terms with.  I’d be disgusted even if Europa had been with him of her own free will, so knowing that she had been forced with him made my stomach churn.  I could see why they had no qualms handing Europa over to him; he was everything they expected in a Career.</p><p>“Is that who they were going to make you marry?” I asked her.</p><p>“Eww,” Avalon said.  “He’s gross.”</p><p>Europa shook her head.  “Different person,” she answered, but she left it at that.</p><p>“So,” I said, leaning back in my seat.  “Our parents rent you out to the highest bidder and the want to kill me.  What do they have in store for Avalon?”</p><p>Europa ran a hand through her hair and looked up at wide-eyed Avalon.  “No idea if they’re planning anything,” she said.  “To think that I was just going to let things take its course and go back to District 1 with the belief that everything would turn out alright.  I’m such an idiot.”</p><p>“Well, now you’re a well-prepared idiot,” Avalon told her.  She held out the jar.  “You want some peanut butter?”</p><p>“Absolutely no one wants to eat the peanut butter,” I said to her.  “Put your name on it so none of us end up accidentally eating out of it.”</p><p>“So, let me get this straight,” Avalon said to Europa, ignoring my remarks.  “Mom and Dad have the ability to cover up Augustus’ death, marry you off to some person, and kill Isabella . . . but we’re safe here in the Capitol?  They can spy on us, but they can’t hurt us?”</p><p>“To the best of my knowledge, they can get people to report back to them, but it’s not like they have lackeys here in the Capitol who will go out of their way to keep an eye on us,” Europa explained.  She took the peanut butter out of Avalon’s hands, slipped on the lid, and tightened it.  “Since we’re public figures, they’ll know if we went to some of the bigger parties, or who we’re hanging out with, or those sorts of things.  Anyone who even <em>attempted</em> to murder Isabella in the Capitol would be executed, no doubt, so there won’t be many takers for assassins.”</p><p>That was a relief at least.</p><p>“And all we have to do here is go to school?  What happens after school?” Avalon asked.</p><p>“I guess it depends on what degree you get and what you want to do with it,” I replied.  I stood up, picked up the jar, and headed for the odds and ends drawer where I had a few pens.  As I did so, I continued, “There are plenty of things for victors to do in the Capitol.  Some never actually go back to their home districts except for things like the reapings and stuff.”</p><p>“How would we do that?  When it’s time for the reapings, how would we go back without getting killed?” Avalon looked at me curiously.  Or perhaps she was just eyeing the jar in my hand as I wrote her name on it in big, thick letters.</p><p>“At this point, I think Isabella is the only one at risk, so we’ll figure out a reason for her to stay here,” Europa said.</p><p>“I know this is stupid, but I was kind of hoping for things to go back to normal,” Avalon sighed as she slumped back in her stool.</p><p>“Nothing’s ever normal after the Hunger Games,” I told her.  “They don’t tell us that part, either.  How everything in life is completely inverted and rearranged, whether we liked the experience or not.”</p>
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<a name="section0058"><h2>58. Chapter 58</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The three of us showed up promptly for our interview.  Once more, Blue-Anna had created dresses for us, this time all matching.  Avalon’s however, had a little fancier neckline and a touch more lace.  Blue-Anna also wove a golden thread through her hair into a subtle crown.</p><p>“Hello to the Vitner sisters!” Caligula greeted us after we had taken our seats in the interview room of the training center.  It was a small but comfortable room designed for cozy interviews that would be broadcasted all over Panem later tonight.  In many cases, the new victors were so traumatized by what they experienced that putting them in front of a massive crowd for an interview would just send them over the edge.  Despite her speech training, I don’t think that even Avalon would have been able to handle it. </p><p>We greeted the Hunger Games interviewer warmly as we settled into our spots.  The three of us were on one couch; it was slightly bent at an angle so that all of us would be able to see Caligula and the cameras could catch us easily in one shot.  Avalon sat in the middle between Europa and me.</p><p>“Now, you three have managed to set an outstanding record.  I can’t give Avalon all the credit for it because without you two older sisters before her, there would be no record at all,” Caligula said.  “For the first time in history, three children from one family have made it through the arena.  What do you have to say about being the first family with all three children to be victors?”</p><p>“It’s been such an honor, Caligula,” Europa started.  “It’s one thing to win the Hunger Games, but it’s another to know that your siblings are right there behind you.”</p><p>“It is strange to think that this has all come to an end,” I added.  “All three of us are finally through the arena.  But at the same time, it’s opening up a new beginning.”</p><p>“Absolutely amazing,” Caligula said.  “I’m still just so flabbergasted that you three have managed to do this.  And why shouldn’t you?  You have all shown that you’re more than capable tributes.  You’re victors.”</p><p>We had done something that nobody ever attempted to do before.  Even those who had managed to get two kids through—on the rare occasion—had not dared to try for a third, if a third child was even available.  It was foolish, really, to want to do it.  And everyone in the entire country would undoubtedly be shaking their heads at us.  Except for those other Careers who were sitting there watching the interview with admiration.</p><p>Caligula continued, “Avalon, how does it feel to be joining your sisters as victor?”</p><p>Avalon puffed herself up.  “It’s awesome,” she said.  “I feel like it’s been such an accomplishment for us, and I’m so happy to be with them.”</p><p>“Not only did you set a record for being the third sibling in one family—and the fourth person in a family—but you also set a record for the highest number of kills.  You had a whopping <em>nine</em> kills in the arena!  Nine!  What do you have to say about that?”</p><p>Avalon’s smile faltered for a second.  No matter; they’d edit it out.  It took her a few more seconds to think of an answer on the spot and pull it all together.</p><p>“What can I say?  I just like setting records,” she said at last, the smile still on her face.  Just like the speech instructor had taught her.  Smile til it hurts and then keep on smiling.</p><p>“Did you intend to go for that many, or was that just how things played out?” Caligula asked.</p><p>Ugh.  Why do they have to harp on this?  Couldn’t they understand that beneath the façade was a fifteen-year-old girl who was traumatized by what she just experienced?  Did they even care?</p><p>No, of course not.  The non-Career victors were often visibly traumatized by what they experienced and struggled outwardly to keep it under control.  Capitol citizens just pretended that they didn’t see it.  Many of us Careers gave the illusion that we were happy to have gone through what we did (it was an honor after all), but still they must know that the human brain could only be pushed so far.  Were people so stupid to think that we really enjoyed becoming murderers and enduring torture?</p><p>“I wasn’t intending to set a record,” Avalon answered.  “I know that many Careers do, but that’s not my style.”</p><p>No, it wasn’t.  I could only imagine that she had gotten so wrapped up in the Career mindset that she hadn’t been able to turn it off, like I had.  She couldn’t hand her kills over to someone else because there was no one else.</p><p>“So, Avalon, when you get back to District 1, are you going to get a house right next to your big sisters’?” Caligula asked.</p><p>She smiled at him.  “I hope so, but I’m not going to move back to District 1 right away,” she said.</p><p>Confusion crossed Caligula’s face.</p><p>Europa stepped in: “The three of us have decided to stay in the Capitol and attend university,” she explained.  “Now that we are finally together, we want to enjoy our time.”</p><p>“Besides,” I added.  “We promised we’d take Avalon sightseeing. There is so much to do here that it would be impossible to show her within only a few days’ time.”</p><p>“Wow!  Wow!  That’s amazing!” Caligula said, looking genuinely surprised.  But also seriously interested.  “The three of you will be staying with us?”</p><p>Europa nodded.  “Yes sir,” she said.  “Isabella convinced us we should go back to school.”</p><p>Caligula looked at me.</p><p>“It’s been a dream of mine to attend university here,” I explained.  “I was just waiting for the right time.”</p><p>Somewhere at home, my parents would be watching this when it aired, and I wondered just how angry they would get.  Would they scream and shout or would they just sit there and simmer, going back to their drawing boards to determine the best way to commit homicide remotely?</p><p>“I can’t believe we get to keep you guys here,” Caligula said.  “I’m sure the three of you will do wonderfully in university.  Avalon, you’re not worried about keeping up with your big sisters?”</p><p>She smiled, this time perhaps a genuine gesture.  “Absolutely not.  They can’t hold me back.”</p><p>Caligula shook his head while he looked at us lined up on the couch in front of him.  His gaze was somewhat dreamy, a little distant.  “You three never cease to amaze me.  Brawn and brains.  Talent and skill in all fields,” he said.  “I can imagine your classmates might be a little intimidated with you.”</p><p>I laughed.  “I hope not,” I said.  “We worked hard to get to where we are now, and we anticipate working hard in the classroom, too.  I’d hope that our classmates and professors can respect that.”</p><p>“I’m sure they will,” Caligula reassured me.  “But won’t your family and friends at home miss you?  Your parents?”</p><p>“Our parents understand the importance of an education,” Europa lied without an issue.  Such second nature lying was to us Vitners, even well before we reached the arena.  “They were always pushing us to improve ourselves in many aspects.  I think they will be appreciative of our decision.”</p><p>She didn’t talk about our friends.  None of us have any.</p><p>Caligula applauded our desire to go back to university and the unending support our parents gave us.  I did my best to keep my smile fully in place on my lips, not allowing it to even slip away from my eyes.  Though I wondered if my parents weren’t planning on killing me, what <em>would</em> they plan for us to do in District 1?  There was nothing there for us.  Our lives had been about the Hunger Games and that only; even once we won, we were still expected to focus on how to get Avalon through.  Now there were no children left for my parents to push towards their death.</p><p>“Avalon, do you think you could use anything you learned in the arena and apply it towards your future?” Caligula asked while we were on the topic of education.</p><p>My little sister sat there for a moment in thought.  At first I wondered if she had spaced out, her eyes were so far away.  But then she cleared up and sat up straight.</p><p>“Yes,” she said.  “In the arena, there are certain qualities that you need in order to advance towards victory.  Determination, hard work, those sorts of things.  They will be applicable in other aspects of life—in the classroom, that is—but probably in slightly different ways.”</p><p>The interview carried on as such.  He asked Avalon about the Hunger Games a little more (what her favorite part was, how she felt about certain events) and Avalon gave stock answers and polite words.  Those sorts of questions were inevitable, but since there were three of us being interviewed instead of just one, much of the pressure got taken off of Avalon as it was redirected to Europa and me.  This was exactly what we wanted.</p><p> </p><p>“Good job, ladies,” Caligula said after the cameras shut off.  “I look forward to further interviews with you.”</p><p>We thanked him for the interview, stood up, and gathered ourselves together.  It’s always a little disorienting with the longer interviews because you become so engrossed in trying to make it through without a hiccup that the real world kind of crashes back on you when you finish.  But we were done.  At least for the time being.</p>
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<a name="section0059"><h2>59. Chapter 59</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were two more interviews, a couple of photoshoots (one without Europa and me and one with all three of us), and a party.  All of them were manageable.</p><p>One morning after the last of the festivities, I woke up early in order to get the apartment cleaned up a bit before Isolde came over to go house hunting with us.  It was her specialty, she assured us.  Living with two other people was far different than living by oneself, and cleaning up messes fell more often than not upon yours truly.  Part of me wanted to stay in this apartment, but another part of me was grateful that we were moving on.  This place was built for four, after all.  Four bedrooms, four bathrooms.  But there were only the three of us.</p><p>I showered and headed out into the main area only to find that there was a note on the counter held in place with a jar of peanut butter.</p><p>
  <em>I have gone back to District 1.  I miss home and our parents.  I will return to the Capitol by the start of the semester.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yours,<br/>Avalon</em>
</p><p>I began to shake.  No way.  No way in hell she had returned home.  I thought we were in agreement that it was too dangerous there.  My body sank into one of the stools at the counter, and I grasped onto the cold granite countertop to keep from falling.  For several seconds, I forced myself to take long, deep breaths so that I wouldn’t fall into a panic.</p><p>Avalon wasn’t safe.  They would do something to her, I was sure of it.  They would hurt her, or kill her, or torture her.  I closed my eyes to hold back the tears that threatened to flow out.  She had barely escaped death once, and now she was eagerly returning to its clutches.</p><p>Once I thought I could stand up, I pushed myself away from the counter and staggered down the hallway.</p><p>“Europa!” I called out.  “Europa!”</p><p>My fists beat against her bedroom door, harder and harder until at last the door opened.</p><p>“What?!” she demanded.  Sleep was still heavy in her eyes and her hair was mussed.</p><p>“Avalon.  She’s gone.  Went back to District 1,” I gasped.</p><p>It was like someone had smacked Europa awake.  Gone was the sleep, the look of exhaustion, in a mere half second.  She drew in a deep breath and let out a few curses.</p><p>“How do you know?” she asked.</p><p>“She left a note on the counter,” I explained.  Europa brushed passed me before I could say anymore and hurried to the kitchen.  She had to see the note for herself, and she wasn’t going to take my word.</p><p>“It’s her handwriting,” she murmured to herself as I walked up to the counter.  “But why would she do this?  I thought she understood.”</p><p>“I guess . . . she really loves Mom and Dad,” I said uncertainly.  Like Europa, I thought we had convinced her to stay here because our parents were beyond dangerous.  Avalon had looked like she understood, and yet she had willingly walked right back into their arms.  “Maybe she just needs to say goodbye before she comes here.”</p><p>“Maybe.”  Europa didn’t sound convinced.  “I need to make some phone calls.”</p><p>She didn’t wait for my response before she disappeared to her bedroom and closed her door, leaving me standing by myself in the emptiness of the kitchen.  I took a deep breath and looked around the living space at the mess my sisters and I had left behind: clothing discarded on furniture, shoes lying around, empty food wrappers that we had promised to take to the garbage can but never did, various gifts people had given us but we had simply dropped onto the first convenient surface when we returned home.  With nothing else to do, I began to clean.</p><p>The doorbell rang a few minutes later.</p><p>Isolde.  I had completely forgotten.</p><p>“Hey,” I said as I opened the door for her.</p><p>She looked at me hard before stepping into the apartment.  “I never know what I’m going to get with you,” she said.</p><p>I closed the door behind her.  “Avalon went back to District 1 without telling us.  Or, rather, by leaving us a note,” I motioned towards the kitchen counter.</p><p>“Does Europa know?” Isolde asked as she walked towards the counter.  She paused to read the sheet of paper.</p><p>“I just found it and told her,” I said.  “She wasn’t aware that Avalon would be leaving.  Said she had to make some phone calls and disappeared into her bedroom.”</p><p>“Which room is Avalon’s?  Let’s see if we can find anything that might indicate when she left,” Isolde said, already going down the hallway.  I directed her to the right room and followed her inside.</p><p>Avalon hadn’t had much time to mess up the place, though there were clothes and belongings scattered about.  She also hadn’t really attempted to make it her “own” either, which was fine because we’d be moving out soon.  Well, I had <em>assumed</em> we would, but if she really was intent on District 1, there was a possibility that she might not be returning anytime soon.</p><p>We searched through the bedroom for anything that might indicate why she left: a ticket stub, a note scribbled on a piece of paper, a receipt.  There was nothing.  I found myself in the bathroom where I opened up a drawer or two.  I was about to leave when I turned around and re-opened one of the drawers where something had caught my eye.</p><p>There was a large vial of pills with her name on the prescription label.</p><p>“Oh shit.” I turned the vial over in my hands.</p><p>Isolde appeared behind me.  “What’s up?”</p><p>I showed her the vial.  “She didn’t take her medications with her.”</p><p>She told the vial from me and turned it over in her hand.  “I’m not a doctor, but I do know that the hospitals here have a reputation for over-drugging victors,” she said.  “This would not be the first time that a victor has shirked her prescribed meds.  Don’t stress too much about it.”</p><p>I tucked the vial back into its place and closed the drawer.</p><p>Maybe I was getting too paranoid and too jumpy.  Avalon shouldn’t have just disappeared like that, but didn’t she have a right to go home?  And she wasn’t the one that my parents were after; she had never posed any sort of threat to them.</p><p>We stepped into the hallway at the same time Europa opened her own bedroom door.</p><p>“Avalon left on the—oh, hi, Isolde—she left on the five AM train this morning,” Europa said.  “She’ll be in District 1 soon enough.  If I can’t reach her by this evening, I’ll take the first train I can to get there.”</p><p>“But what if—” I started, but Europa cut me off.</p><p>“I’ll be fine.  She shouldn’t be there by herself,” she said.</p><p>There was nothing else I could say or do at this point.  Avalon was gone, and Europa would soon follow.  And then I’d be left here wondering what happened and worrying about not just one of them now but both.  Part of me wanted to go find her myself, but I knew I’d only be putting myself in unnecessary danger which may lead to my sisters getting hurt.  So once more, I was left to my own devices.</p><p>Isolde and I sat down to figure out what house my sisters and I should live in when we go back to school.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0060"><h2>60. Chapter 60</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Evening came, and Europa could not get through to Avalon still, so she packed a light bag and headed off to the train station herself.  She instructed me to call the moment I heard from our little sister, but I knew that I wasn’t going to get a notification any time soon.  If Avalon wanted to go to District 1 so badly that she misled us both, it wasn’t like she was going to suddenly start getting into contact with us.</p><p>Unless there was an emergency.  I didn’t let my phone leave my sight.</p><p>Isolde offered to stay for the evening, but I told her that I needed some time for myself.  I thanked her for coming over and for helping us.  When things settle down, I owe that woman massively.  Never once has she asked for anything in return for helping me over and over again.  I’d be embarrassed if I thought I could handle everything without her constant help and advice, but I can’t, so I guess I shouldn’t bother with shame.</p><p>After Isolde left, the apartment was plunged into an eerie silence.  I’ve been in this apartment by myself far more often than not, but since others had been with me so recently, it left a creepy echo in their wake.</p><p>Taking my phone with me, I flopped down on my bed and tried to fall asleep for lack of better things to do.  Tossing and turning, I made little progress.  Listening to relaxing music, counting sheep, and meditating didn’t help.  My brain was too full of thoughts that kept shooting around and rebounding off the inside of my skull.  At long last, far into the early hours of the morning, I finally managed to drift away.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>The arrow sunk into my chest, and the breath vanished from my lungs in a rush of pain.  It hadn’t been a full-powered shot because the archer was too weak to draw back the string farther than he did, but it didn’t matter.  The arrow was in my body, and the pain was taking over me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Isabella, came a voice.  Isabella.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I strained to look around me.  The voice was so familiar and didn’t belong to this hellish landscape around me.  But my vision was darkening, and the world became lethargic and warm.  Pain rolled through me, ebbing and flowing like waves of a great lake.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Isabella. . . .</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My body crumpled to the ground, and I tried to roll over onto my back to look at the stars in the sky.  Time and space meant nothing.  The dawn sky merged with the ever-darkening world inside my dying brain.  Stars appeared on the horizon, and the world passed from day to night to day to night in a rush before my flickering eyelids.  And then my brain couldn’t keep up with it anymore, and everything grew strangely dark. . . .</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Isabella. . . .</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You are not alone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A peace came upon me that I had never experienced in my life.  The pain from my body drained away as though someone had let water out of the bathtub, and in its place was a serenity that I could never put into words.  I had no doubts about myself, no hesitations for the future, no need for plans or preparation.  There was only this overwhelming calm that cradled my body.  What more did I need than—</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Welcome back, Isabella,” came a woman’s voice.  “We almost lost you for good.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It took several tries before I could force my eyelids open, and then I was greeted with a dull light.  The figure of a woman stood next to me.  Beyond that, I could see nothing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What—” I tried.  My lips wouldn’t work.  All that came out of me was a guttural groan.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You don’t have to worry about anything,” she said.  “Our lungs are breathing for you.  Our heart is beating for you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I managed to blink.  The light seemed so dull and foreign.  What was beyond it?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We are only waiting to see if they can save Harold,” the woman told me.  “If they cannot, you will be victor.  Either way, District 1 is our winner this year.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Hunger Games. . . . I was in them.  Still?  Couldn’t tell.  Didn’t know.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We will know in a few minutes if we will be letting you go again.”  The woman’s voice was soft and even.  Its cadence left me calm and almost dulled out my curiosity.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Letting . . . me . . . go?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My brain was heavy and numb.  What did that mean?  I was here.  Where else would I go?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You won’t be in any pain if we need to,” she continued.  “Just as you aren’t in pain now.  I assure you that the process will be peaceful.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Process?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I tried to wrap my head around the words she was saying, but they only left impressions in my brain without giving me any insight into what she tried to convey.  I felt like she left, but it was hard to tell.  She might have stepped away for a moment or left me alone for a year.  Nothing made sense.  Everything swirled together into confusion.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She was by my side again before I had a chance to be concerned.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“They were unable to save Harold,” she informed me in her quiet, even voice.  “We will begin procedures to restore your vitals.  You are fortunate that he is a match.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Once more I felt heavy but it didn’t strike me as bad.  No, it was good to be heavy.  Don’t move.  Just exist.  The whirring of machines around me drew me out of my stupor but only for a moment before I felt increasingly heavy and could no longer hold open my eyelids.</em>
</p><p><br/>I woke up crying with the feeling that I never wanted to sleep again, not as long as I lived.  Residual tension from the memory lingered within my body as I forced myself out of my bed.  I paced around the room to try to free myself from it, but I couldn’t escape the sensation that something wasn’t right.</p><p>And what was right about it?  Everything I had experienced after the medics took me out of the arena was a great hell that now left me near hysterics.  In my state, I hadn’t understood what it all meant, and now that I could remember it—and not let it go—it made me want to lay down on the floor and weep.  They brought me back and were willing to kill me again if they had their rightful victor.  It wasn’t a race to see who got revived first; they had me alive well before they gave up on Harold.</p><p>Even a shower, regardless of temperature, didn’t help me with the current turmoil beating me down, so I headed out for an early-morning run.  I ran as far as I could as fast as I could, but there was nowhere for me to escape the truth about my death.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0061"><h2>61. Chapter 61</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s nothing to write about.  I can’t focus.  I haven’t heard back from Europa or Avalon.</p><p>I took another shower—really, I’ve taken five showers since I woke up, but after the last one—and stood naked in front of the mirror trying to figure out what parts of me were mine and what were my former district partner’s.  I can’t see my organs through my skin, but I knew the placement of each one in my body, and I went through each and every bit trying to figure out how much of me is me.</p><p>Is that how they justified that I am their victor?</p><p>Is his blood in me?  His lungs?  His bones?</p><p>I pressed my hand against my chest over my heart and felt it beat.  Was that mine or his?</p><p> </p><p>That’s what it’s like to die.  It’s painful, but there’s also some comfort, too.  I think if I had died, it wouldn’t have been a bad thing, for me at least.</p><p>But I didn’t get a choice in the matter.  I didn’t get to choose whether I’d live, and I didn’t get a choice about whether I’d die.  Those decisions were made for me.</p><p>I’m okay with being alive.  There are a great many things left to do in this world.  But I can’t shake the soothing voice of the woman who taunted me with life and death.</p><p>When am I going to hear back from my sisters?  I can’t stand this anymore.  I’m being eaten alive from the inside out.  Torn to pieces by Harold’s life-giving organs that want to burst from within me and find their rightful owner.  Nothing about me can get comfortable.  I’m restless, but I try to do anything and I only dissolve into a puddle on the floor, unable to move or eat or sleep.</p><p>I thought writing would help, but it doesn’t.  It only makes everything worse.  Like someone is dragging a grater against the inside of my body, peeling away the lining of my thoracic cavity.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0062"><h2>62. Chapter 62</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Things get worse.  They always get worse.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0063"><h2>63. Chapter 63</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My notebook is spread out on the desk before me.  I sit at the chair.  There is a lamp to my left, and my phone sits on the desk to my right.  These are the things I know.  I have to start somewhere.  These things are truths that cannot be disproven.</p><p>Mom and Dad are dead.  That is also a truth.</p><p>That is all I know.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0064"><h2>64. Chapter 64</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been a couple days since I last wrote.  In that time, I’ve found out more.  I will record it now because I must:</p><p>Avalon killed our parents.  She cut their throats when they were asleep.  And then she wrote with their blood on the wall: AUGUSTUS.</p><p>Europa tells me over the phone that everything will be okay and that Avalon is safe, but she can only assure me so much before I start crying again.  I’m not sad about my parents.  Not really.  But I am sad that Avalon did what she did.</p><p>Ten.  Eleven.</p><p>What becomes of her?</p><p>What becomes of all of us?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0065"><h2>65. Chapter 65</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How long since I last wrote?  Many days and nights passed.  I lay on the floor unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to blink.  At last I managed to push myself to my knees and crawl to the bathroom where I forced myself into the shower.  Long after the water turned off, I sat huddled in the corner and wondered what to do next.</p><p>I am not sad that my parents are dead, as I wrote before.  I am only sad that Avalon did what we could not.  That she channeled who she was in the arena in order to eliminate something that threatened us all.  Me.  Threatened me.  She was at no great risk.</p><p>She killed to set us free.</p><p>Finally I made myself leave the shower.  I forced myself to put on clean clothing even though my body moved like bags of sand.  Then I went into the hallway.  Kitchen.  Peanut butter.  Couldn’t move.  Floor.</p><p>Europa returned home.  The sound of the key in the door and the doorknob turning seemed so foreign to me, but I couldn’t think fast enough to consider that it might be an intruder.  Instead I sat there.  And that is where Europa found me.</p><p>“Geeze, woman, what the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded.</p><p>I looked up at her with bleary eyes.</p><p>“Get up,” she ordered me, and when I was too slow to move, she leaned over, grabbed my upper arm, and hoisted me to my feet.  I tottered there for a moment before she led me over to a counter stool and forced me to sit down.</p><p>“Avalon?” I managed with a dry mouth and cracked throat.</p><p>“She’s in the hospital,” Europa replied.  She went about the kitchen as she talked, pulling things out of cupboards and running the sink and opening cans and all that other sort of stuff.  “She was admitted shortly after they found Mom and Dad.  There was a trail of blood running to a cupboard where she was hiding.  They transferred her a few times between various wards, and now she is being transferred again, but this time to the Capitol.”</p><p>That filled in many of the gaps, but it didn’t tell me how <em>she</em> was doing.  How she was handling things.  I couldn’t figure out how to say these words and instead watched as Europa bustled about the kitchen in silence.</p><p>At last she slid a bowl of soup in front of me and a piece of thick bread.  She took the same for herself and came around the counter where she sat next to me.</p><p>“The entire thing has been covered up because, you know, it would look completely ridiculous to know that the brand-new victor had problems and was going around murdering people.  Especially her parents who she cared so much for.”  Europa paused here to let the drip of sarcasm set in.  But then she sighed.  “I don’t know what they’re going to do to her.”</p><p>I turned from my untouched soup bowl and looked at her.</p><p>Europa shrugged.  “They have to get her stable enough to rejoin society,” she said.  “And if she isn’t, then they’ll have to lock her away somewhere.”</p><p>That wasn’t something I wanted to think about.  Poor Avalon, after all she has gone through.</p><p>“She is being transferred to one of the best doctors in the city, though,” Europa continued.  “So I’m hopeful that she will get better quickly.”</p><p>“H-how—” I paused and cleared my throat. “How will that help?  They are the ones that did this to her.”</p><p>“This doctor came recommended,” Europa said.  “From other victors.”</p><p>I didn’t have a comment on that because I couldn’t imagine that any victor would put his or her faith in one of the Capitol doctors.  Even those of us from District 1 who were supposed to be in favor of the Capitol would do our damnedest to get away from any Capitol-sponsored head doctor who wanted to play with our minds.  But what other choice did we have?</p><p>“She did this to protect us,” I said as I stared down into my bowl of soup.  “To protect me.”</p><p>Europa nodded.  “Yeah.  She has guts, I’ll give her that,” she said.  Then she sighed and dunked her chunk of bread into her soup.  “I just wish it didn’t have to come to this.”</p><p>“How are they covering this up?” Curiosity got the best of me.  I had to know.  She killed her parents—that should be something all over the news.  Maybe it was; I hadn’t turned on a television or looked outside or read a newspaper in days and days.  Everyone could already know about this.</p><p>“Murder suicide,” Europa said.  “Avalon walked in shortly after it happened.  And she’s currently in the hospital because she is so traumatized by it.”</p><p>I shook my head.  “Will anyone believe it?”</p><p>“Why shouldn’t they?” Europa asked.  “Avalon should be celebrating, not murdering.  So it’s entirely out of character, you know?  At least as far as the Capitol is concerned.”</p><p>I guessed that in the end it didn’t really matter.  As long as Avalon was safe and wasn’t going to be prosecuted for what she did.</p><p>We sat at the counter for awhile without much conversation besides Europa instructing me to eat every time I took too long between bites of food.  When was the last time I ate?  I couldn’t remember.  When I finished, Europa took the bowls and began to wash them in the sink.  I mumbled out a thanks and staggered away to my bedroom where I fell onto the bed and look up at the ceiling.</p><p>The Hunger Games were finally over for the three of us.  We’d have to mentor some years, but we’d never have to worry about being in them again.</p><p>Everything was different now.  The lives we built were swept out from underneath us, and we were forced to change in the blink of an eye.  It wasn’t Avalon’s fault, not really; things were going to have to change whether she killed our parents or not.  But now the final cord that connected us to our old life had been severed, and we were no longer bound to the history that held us in place for so long.  And our parents, much as I hated the things they did to us, were dead.  I found that despite the horrible upbringing, despite that they sent us to the Hunger Games, despite Augustus’ death and my planned murder . . . I didn’t hate <em>them</em>.  And now they were dead.</p><p>I cried myself to sleep, and this time when I slept, I had no dreams.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0066"><h2>66. Chapter 66</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Europa and I had to give up all of our sharp objections upon entering the hospital.  Of course the knife in my older sister’s pocket had to go.  But also things that we didn’t think would be classified as dangerous, such as a pen I had in my purse.  It didn’t surprise me; I’d seen people use all sorts of clever things to kill tributes in the arena when weapons were scarce or damaged.</p><p>Avalon was in her room.  She wore a pair of loose pants underneath an oversized t-shirt as she sat cross-legged on her bed and drew a picture with markers.  The moment she saw us, her face brightened.</p><p>How she had changed!  Her face was gaunt, dark circles haunted her eyes, her lips were pale and cracked.  Despite the excitement that crossed her expression, these things didn’t disappear.</p><p>“Yay!  You guys came!” she said.  She capped the marker in her hand and tossed it on the bed in a pile with a few others.  “You’re breaking me out of here, right?”</p><p>Europa pulled up a chair and I hovered at the foot of the bed.</p><p>“Unfortunately you have to stay here til you’re feeling a little better,” Europa said, and Avalon’s face fell.</p><p>“But I <em>am</em> feeling better,” she insisted.  “None of the doctors will listen to me, but I thought for <em>sure</em> you guys would at least.”  She looked desperately between Europa and me, her green eyes pleading with us to believe her.</p><p>“Not until Dr. Castillo says that you can go,” Europa said.</p><p>Avalon gritted her teeth and stared at the markers by her knee.</p><p>“What do you want in your new bedroom?” I asked her.  “We already found a place near Isolde, but you can decorate your own room.”</p><p>We had never been allowed to choose the designs of our rooms back home.  When we lived in Mom and Dad’s place, everything was micromanaged, from the color of our bedsheets to what we could or couldn’t put up on our bedroom walls.  Once we won, there was a little more freedom, at least for Europa and me.  Mom and Dad insisted that Avalon stay with them, whether it was in their old house or in the victor mansion (Europa’s; I never wanted them to live in mine) and my little sister never got to express herself even within her own room.</p><p>“I don’t want it,” she grumbled.  “Just paint it all white to look like this nuthouse.”</p><p>I rolled my eyes.  “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to paint the whole thing chartreuse.”</p><p>“Eww, don’t do that,” Avalon said.  Then she added, “I don’t even know what color chartreuse is.”</p><p>“Me neither,” I admitted.  “But you have to tell me what you want in your room otherwise that’s what you’re going to get.”</p><p>Avalon thought about it for a moment and at first I thought she was going to reject it all.  But in the end she began to list off what she wanted: one wall purple, one wall blue (but like a sky blue, she said), one wall black, one wall blank; there had to be at least two windows; the bedsheets needed to not be “boring things that an adult would choose”; she had to have some of her belongings from back home; etc.  I noted each one carefully to make sure that I got it close to what she wanted.</p><p>“This room is going to be hideous,” I said when she had finished.</p><p>“That’s okay,” Europa interjected before Avalon had a chance to say anything.  “As long as Avalon is comfortable.  She can always repaint the walls later if she decides that purple-blue-black-blank is overrated.”</p><p>We talked then of things that didn’t matter a whole lot.  What was going on in the city to what was going on at home; what classes we had signed up for (i.e., what classes I had signed the three of us up for); what sorts of things we wanted to stock in the kitchen.  Avalon was engaged with the conversation, even if she didn’t like my class choices and wanted to eat weird things.</p><p>At last a nurse poked her head in the room to check up.  Avalon’s face darkened when she saw her, and she became quiet.  The nurse, on the other hand, was cheery and calm.  She greeted Europa and me, and she asked Europa to come with her to speak with the doctor since Europa was now Avalon’s legal guardian.  I stayed with our little sister.</p><p>“How is it here?” I asked her.  “I mean really.  I know you don’t want to be here, but other than that. . . .”</p><p>Avalon sighed.  “It’s not <em>terrible</em>.  I just feel like they’re picking into my brain all the time.  I don’t like it.”</p><p>“The doctor is nice?”</p><p>“Yeah, nice enough.  I don’t trust any of them, though,” she admitted.  Then, after a lengthy pause, she turned to me: “I’m sorry, Isabella.  For what I did to Mom and Dad.”</p><p>I wanted to say that it was okay, but it wasn’t.  From every perspective, it was wrong.  That wasn’t something I could comfort her on.  Besides, I wasn’t certain if she <em>should</em> be sorry.  So I remained silent.</p><p>“I just wanted to make sure you were safe,” she whispered.  “I didn’t want them to hurt you.  And I didn’t want them to make Europa marry anyone.”</p><p>“I know,” I said at last.  “The situation was entirely messed up.”</p><p>“Now you can go home and mourn Augustus whenever you want.”  She looked up at me and watched my reaction, her eyes searching over every bit of my face.</p><p>I smiled sadly at her.  “Thank you, Avalon.”</p><p>I came around the side of the bed, sat down, and pulled her into a hug.  She buried her face in my shoulder and started to cry.</p><p>“You’re safe now,” I whispered to her.  “You don’t have to worry about the Hunger Games ever again.  You don’t have to worry about Europa and me.  Everything is okay.”</p><p>As a victor, it wasn’t the entire truth, but I wanted it to be so badly that I was willing to say it to her to calm her down.  I would make it the truth, if I must.  We wouldn’t ever have to go back to the Hunger Games, but we’d be forced to be participants anyhow.  Avalon clung to me tighter.</p><p>“You’re going to get better,” I continued.  “You’ll never be like you were before you entered the arena, but that’s okay because no one ever stays the same, whether they go to the Hunger Games or not.  Neither Europa nor I are the same people we were, and neither are the other victors.”</p><p>Avalon sniffled and then began sobbing.  I wasn’t sure how much of what I said she’d heard.</p><p>I continued, “You’re not alone, even if it seems that way sometimes.  You’ll never be ‘normal’ but normal doesn’t matter anymore.  What matters is that you get healthy and stay strong.”</p><p>When Europa returned, Avalon and I were coloring together on a sheet of paper, drawing doodles and everything with all five markers they had given her.</p><p>“They originally gave me crayons,” Avalon explained.  “But then I graduated to markers.  From preschool to kindergarten in 2 days.  Be amazed by my skill.”</p><p>“C’mon, Isabella, before they kick us out,” Europa said.</p><p>Avalon heaved a dramatic sigh.  “Abandoned again.”</p><p>“Get over it,” I said.  I signed my name to my doodles, capped the marker, and returned the supplies to her.  “We’ll be back soon.”</p><p>We said our goodbyes, and then Europa was ushering me to the door, through a few hallways, and then to the office to get back our items they’d taken from us.</p><p>“How is she doing?” I asked Europa as we meandered back towards the hospital entrance.  But once we got there, we were directed to an alternate exit.  The entire country was aware that our parents had killed themselves and that poor Avalon had been the one to find them; now they flocked to the hospital to show their support (and maybe have a chance to see the girl driven mad by her parents’ deaths).</p><p>“She’s doing alright,” Europa kept her voice down.  I could barely hear her over the thumping of our shoes in the echoing corridor.  “The doctor thinks maybe another week or so here, and then she’ll continue care from home.”</p><p>“And school?” I asked.</p><p>“Doctor says it’s a good idea.  She should be doing much better by then,” Europa said.  “But next time we come, bring her schedule so they can check it over and make sure it’s not too much.”</p><p>“Alright,” I said.</p><p>We nearly reached the exit when Europa came to a stop and looked at me.</p><p>“This has been a damned shitty past few weeks and I’m going to be happy when it’s all over,” she said, meeting my eyes.  “We’ll be okay, the three of us.  Everything’s going to be alright.”</p><p>“I know,” I replied.  “Avalon will be fine.  We’ll move into the new place and start school and this chapter will all be behind us.”</p><p>Except for in our nightmares, of course.  But there was something else here beyond the thought of perpetual torment.  There was also a glint of what might even have been happiness.  For the first time in our lives, we would not be ruled by the Hunger Games.</p><p>Europa looked absently down the corridor.  “I think this is how it was always supposed to be.”</p>
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<a name="section0067"><h2>67. Chapter 67</h2></a>
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    <p>I reach the point now where I feel that words are no longer necessary.  The truth has been unveiled and is captured in these pages for all to see should they ever read this book.  Everything that I could say has been said, and we are no longer subjected to the lies we were raised with.  The world may never know about Augustus, just as they will never know the truth about our parents’ death.  But it doesn’t matter because now we know and we will not forget.</p><p>Avalon, I give this book to you because you need it now.  You will see that the things we must deal with can be painful, but still we deal with them.  You will always be haunted by the people you killed, and you will always struggle to find your peace with the things you did both in and out of the arena.  Just as I will.  Just as Europa will.  In order to survive, we had to lose a piece of ourselves, and the emptiness left behind is something that we can try to fill but never will restore to its original condition.</p><p>This is the life of a victor. </p><p>We are not merely the Careers we were in the arena but we also cannot deny that part of ourselves.  Nor are we solitary beings who exist in different planes from each other; no, we all share this hell that we have entered, but we will also get through because we have each other.</p><p>Now what comes before us is not the past riddled with secrets that are forbidden from being spoken but a future that we can explore as we desire.  We know that we will be drawn back into the Hunger Games time and time again, but we also know that we are not bound to live our lives around this terrible event. We will not give up or succumb to the darkness that threatens to claim us.  We are going to university, the three of us.  And we won’t be alone because Isolde and Cassiopeia will be there, too.  What comes after that is a mystery. </p><p>Don’t forget this, Avalon: you have a future ahead of you that you will make to be your own.  And Europa and I will always be part of that future.</p><p>Your sister,<br/>Isabella Vitner</p>
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<a name="section0068"><h2>68. Thank You</h2></a>
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    <p>Thank you to everyone who read this story.  Once again, I hope that you enjoyed it.  It was very different from most types of things I write, and I wasn’t sure exactly where it was going.  There were a few twists and turns in there that even I, as the writer, did not expect.</p><p>I knew very little about the Vitner sisters when I started except for the fact that they were all Careers from District 1, and all three of them would be victors.  But their relationships with each other and the way in which each one handled the Hunger Games unraveled itself as I wrote.  I hope you have enjoyed their story, and I look forward to including them in future works.</p><p>Your support is greatly appreciated.  Thank you especially to Brook1 and darth_nell for your comments—it’s so much fun to write and know that people are reading as you go.</p>
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<a name="section0069"><h2>69. Characters</h2></a>
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    <p>Please read at your own discretion if you have not finished the entire work - there may be some spoilers within.  I also must apologize because I am absolutely terrible at coming up with themed names.  The poor Capitolite characters really get screwed over in the naming process.</p><p> </p><p><strong>VICTORS </strong>(that have been mentioned)</p><p>Cassiopeia ____ --- District 5 --- 145<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Isabella Vitner --- District 1 --- 143<sup>rd</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Europa Vitner --- District 1 --- 142<sup>nd</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Fjord McGlough --- District 4 --- 141<sup>st</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Juniper Sadik --- District 7 --- 140<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Esther Hugh --- District 8 --- 138<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Gill Tide --- District 4 --- 137<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>James ___ --- District 5 --- 136<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Isolde Lee --- District 1 --- 135<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Hammer Williams --- District 1 --- 134<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Elijah Asher --- District 5 --- 133<sup>rd</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Basil Gonzalez --- District 11 --- 132<sup>nd</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Lady McClure --- District 10 --- 131<sup>st</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Elm Cottonwood --- District 7 --- 130<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Butch Granite --- District 2 --- 128<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Jericho ___ --- District 1 --- 122<sup>nd</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Demeter Sawyer --- District 11 --- 119<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Ferrer ___ --- District 2 --- 118<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Calico Smithers --- District 8 --- 112<sup>th</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Jenna ___ --- District 9 --- 103<sup>rd</sup> Hunger Games</p><p>Dawn Hildebrand --- District 1 --- 83<sup>rd</sup> Hunger Games</p><p> </p><p><strong>TRIBUTES</strong> (that have been given names)</p><p>Edric Maldonado --- District 1 male</p><p>Avalon Vitner --- District 1 female </p><p>Lukas --- District 2 male </p><p>Tori --- District 2 female</p><p>Cod --- District 4 male </p><p>Perch --- District 4 female</p><p>Jessica --- District 9 female</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>OTHER CHARACTERS</strong>
</p><p>Mildred Honeydew --- District 1 escort</p><p>Bilford --- District 1 stylist</p><p>Blue-Anna --- District 1 stylist</p><p>Yule Lachamp --- Capitol citizen</p><p>Crystalline Macintosh --- Capitol citizen</p><p>Felix Dionysus --- Capitol citizen</p><p>Caligula Klora --- Hunger Games interviewer</p><p>Janice Lovely --- Hunger Games announcer</p><p>Dr. Castillo --- Capitol doctor</p><p>Harold --- former District 1 tribute</p>
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